City Of Thorns
by Caity and Lily
Summary: Written by Caitlyn and Lily. A big change interrupts Clary's life and it doesn't please the Lightwoods. A battle is brewing. What will happen when it's family against family?
1. Change For You

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything... Unfortunately. _

_Hey, this is Lily. How this will work is my best friend and I will take turns writing chapters but plan it out together and everything. This is my chapter as you can see. Our first shot at a fanfiction hope you enjoy!_

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_"Clary!_ Can you give me a hand with this?" Luke called, grunting under the weight of the box he was holding.

"One second," Clary mumbled, focused on the picture she was sketching.

"CLARY!"

"I said one second!" Clary said louder, tilting her head up, eyes closed. She looked down at her drawing, the beautiful city of Alicante warped under her pencil tip. It had been almost a year since she had been there anyway and longing to go back was somewhat empty. Clary's hand came down on the paper, twisting it in her fist. She just couldn't get the detail right. Each picture felt like something was missing, something vital and important. She let go of the crumpled sheet, letting it fall to the floor of Luke's pickup truck with the rest of her failures. With a small sigh, she reached for a new piece of paper and laid it across her lap. Clary squinted at her fresh piece of paper, imagining Idris as she'd like to remember it: The fireworks, Jace's arm around her, the smiles, the _celebration. _Nothing before had ever been like that to Clary and never again would it be exactly the same if she ever witnessed it, participated in it again.

She suddenly became very aware of a presence near her. Clary looked up, the shadow falling on her. He was in the direct path of the sunlight and it made him a silhouette. Luke was standing there, hands on hips. Gray parts of hair shining in the sunlight, seeming to sparkle at her.

"Been busy?" He asked, looking at the floor of his car. Balled up works of art littered the ground.

"Very," Clary answered, hopping out the door past Luke. He was bent down, carefully unfolding the papers one by one. She stretched her muscles outside, realizing how her foot was asleep. How long had she been sitting in the car? She was about to ask Luke this when she noticed how quiet Luke suddenly went.

"These are very good," Luke said softly, putting them down and reaching for another box -this one marked fragile- out of the trunk. Clary shrugged, embarrassed of leaving her pictures out like that. None of them were really any thing to gawk at.

"They're just random drawings," Clary said, kicking at a piece of grass. She knew Luke knew otherwise. They weren't just _random, _they were the Shadowhunter's home. Even if they did not have a house there, they would always have a home there. She thought of Amatis, Luke's sister, with her graying hair and the way she had acted when Luke showed up with her dying in his arms. The way she thought she should act because of Valentine.

"Well," Luke broke the silence awkwardly, "They're still very good."

Clary smiled a hard smile, the bitter taste of Valentine's name in her mouth. She felt the sudden urge to spit, to rid herself of the foul flavour. She shook her head silently and helped Luke get a box. Several boxes lay in the corner of the back of the trunk, all marked _Weapons, _all staying currently untouched.

Clary opened her mouth, about to say something to break the echo of Luke's last words when her mother showed up.

"Guys! What are you doing? Boxes won't unpack themselves." Jocelyn Fairchild said, poking her head in the door, looking at Luke. Clary was also looking at Luke, struggling to move the box out the car door. Jocelyn's eyes scanned the car's floor and Clary could tell, even though some were still balled up and twisted, that she was making out the images.

"Clary," Her mother said, expressionless, "Can I speak to you?"

Clary sighed, guessing what she wanted to talk about. She had tried to bring it up so many times but Clary had told her each time that it was fine, it was great, nothing was better. This was the response that she knew her mother had wanted to hear and it wasn't a lie. It really _was_ what she had hoped for, in a way.

They walked away from the car until they got to their new house's wall. Clary's mother took her daughter's hand in hers.

"Clarissa, I know you keep saying that you're okay with this but I know how different -how _strange _this must be for you. Us moving in with Luke, with a new house on top of that. I just-"

"Mom.I_ am_ fine with this! Actually," Clary thought for a moment, "I am more than fine with this! I am ecstatic with joy over this! I am _bursting_ with happiness!"

"Clary..."

"Mom," Clary whispered, squeezing her mother's hands, "I am seriously, truely, undeniably okay with this." She wished her mother would just leave it alone, seeing as Luke was staring at them curiously now. Her mother still had a disbelieving look on her face and Clary couldn't take it anymore. She dropped her hands out of Jocelyn's and ran to get a box.

Parents. What's with them not _trusting? _

Jace grabbed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, reaching at the same time for his stele with his other hand. His mind flashed briefly to the manor house where Clary had lost his. He quickly erased the memory, although some of it was pleasant. He shook his head, as if to clear it of all thoughts. He left his room, marching towards the library, not for the books but for the people he was hoping to find there.

"ALEC! IZZY?" _Max._ The word played in his mind until Jace called out again, "ALEC? ISABELLE?" His voice echoed off the walls until realized he was alone. Where are they? He thought, turning around to walk to the door. Each room now had somewhat sour memories, even if they had been _just_ memories before. Hodge sitting in the library, Hodge giving them their lessons and there was Hodge at the Gard... Jace, He told himself, stop it. Right now was the present and that was the past.

He left the library in a hurry, pulling on his jacket. He needed to get out but he knew he didn't want to get out alone. "Alec? Isabelle?" He walked up the stairs, poking his head in Isabelle's bedroom. It was empty. Probably out with Simon, Jace thought with disgust. He knew calling out for her would be useless. "Alec! Where are you?" He walked past several doors until he got to the one he wanted. "Alec?" He asked, pushing the door open.

His eyes widened when he walked in. There was Alec but he wasn't alone. He was with someone. A very glittery, cat-eyed someone. He was perched on the bed, spiked hair drooped slightly. At first they seemed not to notice Jace, who stood in the doorway, not daring to make a sound. Alec's hair was messed almost to the point of bedhead, and he was pressed up against Magnus, hands around him. Jace thought they would realize that he was there but he knew they were oblivious to the world. Jace couldn't take it anymore, "Now, I don't mean to intrude but..."

The sound that Alec made, a part choking-part gasping-part swearing sound, would always be burned in Jace's brain. "Jace!" He shrieked, nearly falling off the bed in the rush to button up his shirt. Magnus glared at Jace then rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he did it.

"No need to pout, Maggy poo, I shall be leaving if your _busy?"_ Jace sneered on the last word in amusement, enjoying the look that flashed in the warlock's eyes.

"Don't be an ass," Alec muttered, his face still red, "What do you want?"

"Once an ass, always an ass," Jace grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe, "Want to come hunting?"

Alec's eyes narrowed and his lip twitched up slightly. "Did you ask Mum?"

"Of course not. Why? Is she ironing your favorite pants again?" Jace knew he was hurting Alec but a little sarcasm every now and then wouldn't kill him. Alec should know better than to make out with a warlock with his door open by now. Alec blushed, cursing silently but Magnus brightened. "Oh, the pair with the sparkly stripe on the side? I like those." Alec stared at Magnus, hoping he would get the message.

"No, Jace, she's not ironing them because they're wash and wear," Alec mumbled, getting off of the floor. "Jace, I don't think you should go out demon hunting after the lake."

"Oh, you don't think I should do you?" Jace's face was full of mock surprise, "Well, now, that's just too bad because I'm going out anyway."

"Jace..." Alec cautioned, taking a step towards him. Jace backed out of the door, smiling sarcastically.

"As you were," Jace said as he started to walk away, his stele gripped tightly in his hand. He held the stair railing on his way down and quietly, from Alec's room, he heard, "I'm going to have something cooler to say than him one of this days. Just you wait."

Jace grinned as he took the stairs down two at a time, his thoughts on where he would hunt still uncertain. New York was lousy with demons anyway, he would find one soon enough. He walked to the weapons room, filling his belt with seraph blades and a dagger or two. His hand slid across the sharp side of one, relishing the slight sting of pain. A thin line of red followed and Jace didn't wipe it away. He stared at it for a long time before he brought the blade down on his hand again and again and again. When he looked down at his palm he saw what the blood spelt. _Clary. _He rubbed his hands together, smudging the blood. He knew it wasn't forbidden anymore and it was so hard to keep his happiness inside of him but sometimes he forgot. Forgot that he wasn't Clary's brother anymore, forgot that their relationship was fine, forgot that he wasn't a sick-minded person for loving his sister in a way he shouldn't have. But she _wasn't _his sister anymore, never actually was. Jace, he told himself, why can't you just shut up?

He started towards the door, watching his feet. He didn't bother lifted them and they scraped against the cold floor, sometimes leaving small, if not unnoticable, marks. His thoughts were still turned to Clary, the way she seemed so ... delicate. He gritted his teeth, wishing she was a mundane so then he would always know she was safe.

"Going somewhere?" A voice came from the doorway, a shadow against the night.

"What's it to you?" Jace smiled, showing his bright white teeth.

"Oh, you _know_ how I cry when you're away, how my inside's ache at the loneliness and-"

"What do you want, Isabelle? If you're just here to try out some lame sarcastic remarks on me, I'll be sure to be on my way." Jace had already started to push past Isabelle but she didn't seem to want him to go out anywhere.

"Jace," Isabelle's voice was softer now, pleading, "Please, not tonight."

"Not tonight what?" Jace was confused, especially at Isabelle's gentle tone.

"Don't go looking for a fight tonight, stay home! We can watch a movie or something." Isabelle's eyes, like her voice, were digging into him, begging him to stay.

"Oh, not you _too!_" He threw his hands in the air and collapsed, cross-legged, on the floor, the casual stance of his shoulder's swayed while he leaned on one arm. "Between you and Alec, I have a fairly good set of parents."

In the darkness, Jace could see Isabelle's eyes narrow. When she spoke again, she still had her soothing voice but there was an undertone now, something telling him that she probably didn't have the best day today. "Jace, you're still not well enough to go demon hunting, do you think we don't all know that? You may have healed almost all on the outside but-"

"Isabelle..." Jace said, looking at his hands.

"Yes?"

"Please shut up and move over so I can leave."

Isabelle glared down at him, hands on her hips, her whip in one hand, "You're _impossible_!"

"No," Jace corrected her, putting one finger in the air and waving it at her, "I'm impeccable. It's a totally different matter."

Isabelle's hand tightened over her whip and then he could tell from the slump of her shoulders that she had given up. Jace tensed. It was so unlike Isabelle to give up a good ragging, or to give up anything. Her whip uncoiled and, as she walked away, it dragged behind her.

"Isabelle?" Jace's voice was full of actual concern. He had never seen Isabelle like this, and if he had it had been swift and short-lived. He scrambled to his feet, the slight weight of the numerous weapons slowing him down just a bit. "Isabelle?" He could hear the click of her heels going up the stairs. She was moving and she was moving _fast. _

He hurried up next to her but she didn't look at him. He finally stood in front of her and held one of her wrists. "Isabelle, what's wrong?"

Each word that she spoke came as a cold slap afterwards, "I lost a family member before and I can't stand to lose one again but you're only thinking about yourself, not caring about the pain." Her voice rose and he flinched, "Not caring about the hurt." He dropped her wrist and stared at her, realizing what he had done in the weapons room.

"I did shut up and I did move over, now," Isabelle's voice was cold as she stepped around him, "Leave."

Jace stood there, searching her face for a clue to make her feel better. For a hint on a way to comfort her. He found none. She side-stepped him and hurried up the stairs, not looking back. Jace stood there, thinking about what he _should_ have said and what he _should_ have done but knowing it was too late now.

He dashed down the steps, grabbing at one of the daggers and racing to the door before he could make hell with another Lightwood. They all seemed to be out to get him today. Even Alec. Alec, his parabatai. He ran his hand through his blond hair, tousling it as he reached for the doorknob. The door swung open before his fingers connected with it and he took a step out of the Institute before realizing his magical powers hadn't opened the door, Maryse Lightwood had. Great, Jace thought while he stared at the mother of the Lightwoods, I guess I'm still being haunted by Valentine's ghost.

Maryse smiled pleasantly at him but he knew the loveliness wasn't all it was cracked up to be, "Where are you going?"

"Out." Jace replied, trying to think of a way to get past her without seeming all too rude. He snorted internally, what was politeness to a demon hunter? But then, a small voice whispered at the back of his head, what was politeness to Jace?

"And by out, I will assume you mean in because, Jace, you're not well enough to go demon hunting."

Jace's jaw tightened, leaving a taste like copper in his mouth. "And by out, I'll assume I mean out because when a person generally says out, that usually implys out."

"Jonathon-" Maryse began.

"That's not my name. I am Jace and Jace shall be on his way."

"Jace," She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead as if to cover her face. "Do you _really_ want to get out-"

He cut her off, "Yes."

Maryse, put both her hands to her sides and straightened up. Her black hair was so severe and her face equally strict. "You cannot go out tonight and that's _final."_

Jace was taken aback, his eyebrows crinkling ever so slightly. He took a step back, lightly putting the dagger back into his weapons belt. In the corner of her eye, Maryse could see a slight movement and saw that he was already stocked on fighting gear. She put one hand out, her hand not shaking at all. Silently, Jace drew the dagger out again and put it in his mother's outstretched hand. Her fingers curled around it and put it down at her foot. Her hand came again. Jace drew weapon after weapon into Maryse's hand.

"Now," She said when a huge pile of daggers and swords were resting at her feet, "Bed."

His lip curled slightly upward and his eyes shone of disbelief. "I'm almost eighteen! You can't send me to bed at 8:00." He chuckled out loud and stuck his hands in his pockets when he realized how quiet Maryse was being.

"Bed." She said softly.

"You're _serious_?" Jace's hands fell limply to his sides when the old words of his late father rung in his ears_. To love it to destroy_. Going to bed wouldn't kill him but it would be a big blow to his self-esteem. He met Maryse's eyes and slowly, turned, and went up the stairs. When he was walking away, about to close his door with a click he heard her voice again, talking to her husband.

"I don't think he should go out again. The world's just too big for him."

Jace's mind was abruptly filled with nothing but fury and involuntarily, his hand shaped itself around the door and slammed it behind him.

"Is that the last box?" Clary asked between gasps for air. Her hair was matted with sweat and her fingers were coated with grime. She pushed the hair off of her forhead, leaving dirty marks behind. At the moment, she couldn't have cared less.

"I think so," Her mother said, wiping her forhead with a washcloth, "I hope so."

Together, they collapsed on their new couch in their new home. Jocelyn wound her arm around her daughter's shoulder and smiled, "It's all ours, honey."

A couple of coughs came from the door way and they both turned. Luke was standing in there, eyebrows raised, head cocked ever-so-slightly to the right. Clary's mother caught on before she did.

"Oh right," She said, giving her daughter's shoulder a squeeze, "It's all ours _and _Luke's."

"Much better." Luke grinned while he strided over to them, smelling suspiciously of sawdust. Despite the smell, Luke radiated happiness off of him and couldn't seem to stop smiling. He put his arms around them both, leaning over the coffeetable to hug them. A woodchip dug into Clary's shoulder but the pain it brought was almost pleasant because it took her mind off the ache in her legs and arms for a few seconds. The pain of it was like the stele drawing a rune on her, possibly in the shape of a woodchip.

"Whoa," Jocelyn said, finally seeing Luke close up, "Did you brush yourself off before coming in here?"

Luke's eyes darted sideways before resting on Jocelyn again. He gave a weak smile. "Should I have?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes." Then, they were all laughing. The joyfulness was contagious like a yawn but much more pleasant. She couldn't remember feeling this way in a long time and her laughter choked in her throat a bit. Suddenly, everything felt a little too perfect, a little too right. Stop that, she told herself, you're just getting paranoid after all the stuff that happened. Another voice in her head argued with her, of course she should be paranoid, besides it was more like aware anyway. She had every right to be aware. But, the first voice whispered, there was such a thing as being _too _aware. A shadowhunter can never be too aware, the second one scolded. Yes they can, the first one said angrily, and it's called being paranoid. So, Clary's own thoughts sighed for once, we're back where we started.

"-Then we could hang one of your pictures here," Luke said, cutting into Clary's little moment of oblivion. Clary sighed, not because of Luke but because of the ongoing battle with herself.

"Tired, honey?" Her mother said in a gentle voice, giving her a light hug, "It's been a busy day, go get yourself in bed." Clary sat there for a few moments in the comfort of her mother's arms. She realized then she couldn't have forced herself to move even if she had wanted to. She stretched her legs out in front of her and took in a deep breath, still smiling.

"No thanks, I think I'll sit here and relish Luke's ideas for decorating," Clary looked at Luke as she said this and she could see a light sparkle in his eyes. It wasn't one of anger, it was one of happiness. Nothing could break into his ecstasy today, not sarcastic remarks, not heavy boxes or dirty dishes and not-

The doorbell rang and no one else moved. With a groan, Clary heaved herself up, shaking off Jocelyn's embrace and heading towards the door.

"_Simon?_" Clary said in surprised after she had opened the door.

"The one and only," Simon threw his arms out but from the flat tone of his voice and the droop of his posture, Clary knew something wasn't as perfect as she hoped the world was at the moment.

"Come on in. You haven't seen the new house yet, have you? My bedrooms upstairs and it's got-"

"Clary," Her mother called from the other room, "Who is it?"

"An evil vampire who is here to suck my blood." She answered at a yell. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Simon weakly grinning.

"Oh," She heard Luke say, "Simon, eh?"

Clary shook her head and grabbed her best friend by the wrist, pulling him up the stairs and to her new room. The room was a bland pinkish-beige at the moment but she barely looked at it as she closed the door behind them, the only thing she was looking at was Simon, her expression expectant.

"Spill it." She said, sitting on the bed with her arms crossed. She knew that she was filthy and that she probably getting her bed dirty but she barely gave that a thought.

"Spill what?" He answered, going to sit cross-legged beside her.

"You know... the beans!"

"I don't have any beans. Are you implying something?"

"SIMON." Clary said, reaching over to push Simon off the bed and he toppled to the floor in laughter. Clary knew it was a voluntary fall because his strength was much greater than hers now. Clary savoured the sound of his laughter, thinking how it sounded like it always did. Letting it fill her up like food, breathing it in. Laughter. So some things were still the same. She smiled at the thought.

"Seriously though," She grinned down at him, "What's got you all upset?"

"What makes you think I'm up-"

"You're stalling," She pointed out, giving him a small kick with her foot. He had made no move to get up, not even to right himself. Maybe vampires could be comfortable in any position.

"Am I?" He said, raising one eyebrow. He gave a crooked grin but no light was shining in his eyes.

"Simon!"

"Okay, Okay." Simon finally pushed himself on to his stomach and gazed up at her through his eyelashes. "I think I really hurt Isabelle."

"Super vampire strength got her, huh?"

"You know what I mean." Simon looked in no mood for jokes anymore and Clary pressed her lips together. His expression was close to murderous and Clary had the sudden urge to burst into tears. She wondered if looking deadly was an effect of vampirism because no matter whatever she had said or done, never had Simon looked like this.

"What happened?" She said softly, looking out the window that was directly over her bed. She couldn't really see the window, she was just looking away from the hard set of her best friend's face.

"Well, I couldn't just go between Maia and Isabelle, you know odd days for one and of them and even for the other, because I would end up hurting both of them and considering one is a werewolf and one is a Shadowhunter, both of them would end up hurting _me. _So I obviously had to make a decision and-" He said, making wide hand gestures that would turn violent if he did them any rapider.

"Wait," She cut in, "You chose Maia over Isabelle?"

"Yeah." Simon's voice was as miserable as he looked at the moment and Clary was shocked. If he was upset that he chose Maia over Isabelle maybe he should have chosen Isabelle but it was his life and Clary had to stop intruding in it before she got hurt.

"Well, there's got to be a first for everything."

Simon shook his head grimly, not looking at her anymore. "I don't think you get it. She's a Shadowhunter, Clary. A _Shadowhunter._" He enunciated the last one very clearly as if she had never heard the word. She narrowed her eyes.

"And?"

"And now I'm waiting for Alec to come bursting in my window with about 3 daggers, two serpaph blades and several other weapons in which to kill me with."

"Oh, come on." She laughed, shaking her head as she spoke. "That's insane! -"

Simon blew a sigh of relief.

"-You know Alec wouldn't come alone! Magnus would be with him if not his father and possibly his mother too." She finished.

Simon sucked the breath back in almost inaudibally. "Thank you so much Clarissa. This is what I have friends like you for." His sarcasm stayed in the air for a few moments longer and then he stood up and turned towards the door.

"No!" She called the second he twisted away from her and even with his back facing her, Clary could tell he was smiling, "Don't go. I was just kidding."

Simon plopped to the ground again and whirled around to face her. "So now what?" He said.

"What do you mean, now what?"

"What do I do?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Clary," He was pleading now. "You're a girl. What would you do if you were Isabelle?"

Clary thought for a moment, "Well, first I would print off your picture, stick it to my wall, throw darts at it while I'm holed up in my room not letting anybody come near me. Then I would mess my room up and not brush my hair and-"

"Let me rephrase that: What would you do if you were Maia?" Simon repositioned himself, straightening up and sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of him.

"If I were Maia, I would want to be with you right now." Clary whispered as gentle as a feather's kiss, "I would want to hear how you gave up someone else for me. I would want to know that I'm wanted. I would want _you._"

He looked up at her and smiled, the lightest smile she had ever seen Simon wear but it had every unspoken thing in it. Everything she loved to see but wished she never had to witness again. Why can't you just be happy that he's with someone who loves him? The voice said stubbornly in her head. But she already knew the answer to it, it was because he had always loved her and now seeing someone who could make him happier than she could was like a cold poke in the stomach. Not entirely painful but not pleasant, something you wished never happened at all.

"You would do that?" Simon said quietly.

"If I were Maia." She reminded him hurriedly.

"If you were Maia," He repeated, eyes staring off in the distance. Clary's inside's clenched, the words playing over in her mind. If she _were_ Maia then she could make Simon happy, she could always be with him. Forever. Clary knew that their time wasn't exactly limited but it would end. She would grow, she would age and she would die. Simon, beautiful immortal Simon, would never get older and she would have to live with it. Slowly, she got up and went to sit in his lap like she would to her mother when she was a child. Still looking away, he rocked her gently as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Don't worry," He breathed, "I'll always be there for you." She knew this couldn't always be true and she started shaking a bit.

Cold, silent tears ran down her cheeks and, as she reached over and hugged him, fell onto Simon's shoulders. Clary held him tight, her face pressed into his neck, trying to forget that no heartbeat met her own.

Jace had practically memorized his ceiling as he lay on his bed, fuming. How dare she, he thought angrily, who does she think she is? I am not a child anymore and I can make my own decisions. As he thought the last words, a new idea popped into his head. Carefully, he reached over and threw open his window. The chill of the open window sent a shiver down his spine. He gulped in the night air as if he had never breathed before and it sharpened his mind. Taking on more deep breath, he plunged himself into the darkness of the night. This was a decision he was making _because _he was not a child anymore. It was later than he had realized and he wondered how long had he exactly been staring at the ceiling of his room. He shook his head and took a deep breath, gliding smoothly down the side of the Institute. He hit the wet ground with the sound of mud getting stuck to somebody's boots when he realized that leaving his window open might be too obvious. Don't be predictable, he thought as he cursed and started the journey up the wall again. The trip down again was faster because now he was in a hurry. His hand went to his pockets just as he remember that Maryse had taken all of his weapons away from him. Basically, anything could be used as a weapon but, out here behind his house, all he could think of was to rip a tree out of the ground and fling it at somebody and that wasn't even for an emergency. While he was looking around, a familiar voice sounded out.

"Jace? Jace!" Alec called, and Jace could see the outline of his head poking out the window. He froze, hoping that Alec would just think he imagined him and get back to whatever he was doing. He remembered a trivial fact, how a dinosaur couldn't see you if you held still. Or was that a bunny that couldn't see you if you held still? He didn't care. Alec was neither dinosaur nor bunny.

"Jace, what, in the name of the Angel, are you doing out there?"

So he did see him after all. With a sigh, he answered.

"No four walls can contain Jace Lightwood." He had started to walk away now, not really in the mood to stop and chat.

"Jace, you better-"

"Oh, and Alec?" He said, smiling, "Tell your mother that the world is my playground and I intend to push many little kids off of the monkey bars." His voice rang out in the night, as confident as it could be.

"Ja-" Alec sounded urgent now and more of his body was hanging out the window.

"Good day Alexander," With a flourish, Jace gave a sweeping bow and walked nimbly away. Alec could do nothing but stare after him as the shadows swallowed him up.

He turned and faced the other person in the room.

"So," Magnus said, hands in pockets, "Now what?"

"Well," Alec said, "How well can you impersonate Jace?"

Maryse slowly came up the staircase, grief weighing down on her chest like bricks. Each breath she took felt like one taken under water. She knew she had upset Jace but nothing on earth could have made her let him go out that night, nothing on earth had been stronger than her crushing need to protect her _new_ youngest son. Tears pricked her eyes but refused to fall. Not even one rolled down her cheeks. When she reached the top of the stairs, she hesitated. She knew how angry Jace could get when she treated him like that but that's what mother's do, be protective. Jace just couldn't understand that. Slowly, slower than she had been coming up the stairs, she headed towards the only door that stood blank. It could have been anyone's room but it had an owner. An owner who was possibly sulking in there right now. She took a deep breath before even considering what she would say to him. 'I'm sorry?' 'I wish it never happened?' You could wish as hard as you wanted but wishing never changed a thing. She knew how true that was.

Maryse brought her hand down on the doorknob and turned it. The door creaked lightly as she pushed it open fully before even putting one foot inside Jace's room. The light's were off, she noted and it was very dark in there, seeing as the window was closed. She reached in and, with a quick flick of the wrist, light flooded the room. She then looked inside. With a smile, she saw how nothing was out of place. Out of all of her children, he had always been the neatest but it had begun to reach the point of obsessiveness.

There was a curled up figure under the covers of his bed and Maryse was surprised that for once Jace had listened to her. She took a step forward and then another and another until she was looking down on the cluster of blankets on his bed. She touched a spot she assumed was his elbow and shook it lightly.

"Jace?" She whispered, a smile touching her thin lips. She remembered how she stand here, long after he had fallen asleep, and sing to him_. A la claire fontaine_, She thought, _M'en allant promener. Il y a longtemps je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai. J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle, que je m'y suis baigné. Sous les feuilles d'un chene, je me suis fait sécher, Il y a longtemps je t'aime. Jamais je ne t'oublierai. _There were many more verses, in fact, there was a hole other part but it had been lost in Maryse's mind.

"Jace?" She said louder, shaking him a bit harder. She was beginning to get worried. She reached the front of the covers and drew them back. When she saw what was under there, she gasped out loud.

_"Magnus?"_ She almost shouted in shock. The warlock smiled at her from in the bed. She was at a loss for wards when Alec rushed in. She turned to him, hoping he would be as surprised as she felt.

"You're a warlock, for gosh's sake!" Alec threw his hands in the air, "When I told you to be Jace, you could have done better than _that._"

Clary embraced Simon for what felt like a massive amount of time but she could not bear to let go. She could almost tell he felt the same way. Soon though, he pulled away and smiled at her while he gently moved her off of his lap. She could do nothing but stare at him.

Simon cocked his head and looked at her, his eyes exhausted. "You soaked my shirt." He motioned to the large wet spot that started on his shoulder and rolled down his chest.

"Sorry," Clary muttered, looking away and out her window. The sky had darkened considerably and she wondered if Maia was still out, prowling the night and maybe howling at the moon. Simon said something back but she did not catch it. She put her hands to her eyes and wiped away the last of the wetness. With a jolt of surprise she realized there were barely any tears left and her cheeks were amazingly dry but she knew they were only saved from her salty tear water by having the tears fall onto Simon. Clary stood up and stretched her muscles. Simon followed although Clary knew it was more a reflex than anything now.

"Go," Clary said, her voice hoarse.

"What?" Simon looked confused and a little bit hurt. He had on the face that she recognized to be his thinking face. He was wondering why she might be mad at him and why she would want him to go.

"I mean," She said with a small smile, "Go get Maia."

"Um, okay?" He still had a confused air about him but the hurt had completely vanished. He returned her smile like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

She pushed him out the door but he struggled against her hold, "Wait, what am I supposed to say to her? What if she doesn't want to speak to me? What if I can't find her? What if-"

"It'll come to you," She replied, fresh out of better advice.

"But Clary-" He whined, as he was pretty much catapulted down the stairs and into the new house's front doorway. She pushed him still, giving him a little elbow.

"No buts. Go get her, tiger." She smiled as she slammed the door in his face. She waited about three seconds and then the doorbell rang. Laughing, she blew open the door, already speaking. "Simon! I mean it-"

But it wasn't her best friend in her doorway, it was a more fair haired person, one with Marks up and down his body.

"_Jace?_"

His smile was dazzling. He threw his arms out. "I'm moving in with you!"

"_WHAT?"_

Nothing about his expression changed, not one muscle moved. He was still smiling and he still held his arms out. The only thing that happened was that he took a step forward and his voice rung out.

"Surprise."

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Reviews are better then running out of windows.

Lily


	2. Life Left To Go

_Hey guys it's Caity! I'm a HE-UGE procrastinator (Lily won't let forget it too!) but I hope you enjoy. 8D I don't own anything!_

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Clary stared at him in shock, her mouth hanging slightly open and her emerald eyes as wide as the moon. Jace still stood frozen in the same position but his eyes had lost their smile. He slowly lowered his arms to his sides in a way that they lay beside his black clad body in a purposeful way. On anyone else, this would've looked like he was giving up but with Jace? With Jace, It was just a challenge.

"Jace," He shivered at the sound of his name in her surprised voice.

"I'd prefer a room with a view," Jace pushed past her and into the entryway taking a deep breath and scanning the room. His golden hair stood in contrast with his pale skin and it took Clary a moment to catch her breath. It hadn't been that long since she had seen it, had it?

"Jace, what happened?" Clary asked, shoving in front of him and stopping his advancing steps with her elbow. He glanced down in surprise and that gave Clary the chance she needed to wedge herself in front of him using her full weight to restrain him.

Jace was about to reply when a call came from the living room. It was Jocelyn asking who was at the door this time. Clary glanced in alarm at Jace but he only had the mischievous smirk on his face that told her all she needed to know. She pushed herself into her elbow as Jace tried to get around her iron arm. Jocelyn called out again and Clary, huffing from the exercise of trying to keep Jace away called out a quick "No one," that was barely audible even to her own ears.

"Oh, How quickly you dispel my presence," Jace called out loudly. His voice echoed throughout the downstairs rooms and Clary knew it was more for her mother and Luke then a response to her question. She pushed harder into Jace's chest but he didn't even flinch. As Luke stepped into the entryway, Jace easily slipped under Clary's arm and went to stand in front of her. Clary huffed dangerously and restrained herself from kicking Jace in the shin. She watched as he reached out a hand to shake the Downworlder's own. Luke carefully controlled his face but Clary could still catch that hint of surprise in his clear blue eyes. She groaned internally. Jace always seemed to do this.

"You mean Clary hasn't told you yet?" Jace asked his voice pleasant but with a hidden edge of amusement inside of it. Luke raised one of his eyebrows at Clary and answered with a slow and drawn out negative. His flannel shirt was covered in small woodchips and compared to the young man beside him he could have been at least 50.

"I'm moving in with you!" Jace repeated the action as well as the words just as Jocelyn walked through the door. She stood back in surprise her hand moving to her throat. Her red hair was pulled up at the top of her head in a messy bun and her emerald eyes were as green as Clary's. Jace couldn't help but note that Clary's own eyes held just a touch more innocence and… curiosity. Jace smiled proudly at his girl then his smiled disappeared when he realized those emerald eyes were narrowing in a glare of suspicion. This would be interesting.

"Jace, what happened?" Luke sighed, his wariness showing on his tanned face. His blue jean eyes showed all the anxiety and exasperation of years yet also kindness and readiness to listen. Untrusting, Jace turned to his only refuge: His wit.

"If I do remember correctly, Luke said I was welcome to stay with you anytime," Jace said while lifting his finger into the air. Luke looked taken aback. He seemed to want to deny it but knew doing so would be lying and a part of him didn't want to deny anything anymore. It was still an open thing as long as Jace did not abuse it. It felt almost like betrayal to have his words come back to him like this. Clary glowered at Jace openly but he didn't seem to notice or he just ignored it.

"Under the circumstances-" Luke began until Clary interrupted.

"That you weren't being an idiot!"

Jocelyn looked taken aback at her daughter but Clary was still fuming at this beautiful young man standing in front of her. Clary crossed her arms fiercely which only earned her a smug look from Jace. His eyes held something else there, but Clary turned away, not meeting them.

"Please," Jace whispered, his voice changing from the usual mocking tone to one that made Clary turn to look at him. He wasn't looking at her though; he was just looking at her mother. Clary knew what he was doing and silently laughed at him. Of course he'd already thought this out.

"I just can't take it anymore, the bickering and fighting," He continued looking up through his lashes at Jocelyn.

Clary's mother immediately held a sympathetic look on her face. Her eyes were hidden under furrowed eyebrows and, although her eyes were dry, she looked like she might begin crying. At that moment Jocelyn looked nothing like her bitter daughter. She looked compassionate and loving while Clary just looked like she was going to punch Jace in the kisser.

When Jocelyn opened her mouth to speak, Clary had guessed what was coming and turned and stormed up the stairs. Her small feet barely made a noise on the carpet and she couldn't help but steal a glance back at the scene. Luke was the only one looking after her, an understanding look in his face. Clary turned into her bedroom. Jace is going to pay kept playing over and over in her mind.

"Good morning beautiful," A voice cut into Clary's dreamy reverie, a too familiar voice. She could not remember what she was dreaming of, though she knew it was not good. It was one of 'those' dreams. Slowly, she rolled over before suddenly a thought popped into her mind. Whose voice could blend into her dreams so well? Could make it seem like she was still sleeping?

She bolted upright in bed, her yellow sheets falling into pools on her lap. She heard a low chuckle and turned to glare at the person she knew it was from. Jace. His golden hair blended with the dull morning light that filtered through her window. Unconsciously she shuddered, when would she be able to stop that? Then she remembered that she was angry.

"What are you doing in my bed?" Clary raged, her anger working back up to full force. Her hands clenched to fists at her sides and she could feel her fingers making tiny dents in her palms. Jace still stared at her nonchalantly, his lazy demeanor reminding her of a tomcat. Laidback yet ready to pounce at any time. Pure anger wound through her veins boiling her blood and words shot out of her like bullets.

"How long have you been here?" Her voice pounded out in choppy sentences, her words cold. Jace didn't seem affected by her iciness. It only seemed to make him smile broader.

"Fully clothed?" He drawled.

"What!" Clary exclaimed, immediately looking down at the rest of his body. Luckily he wore a pair of sweatpants. When Clary looked back up it was in a glare as hot as her cheeks.

Bitterly, her pale hands reached out and pushed him off of her small bed. He went willingly, almost gracefully to the ground with a big grin on his face. Clary scowled. Jace couldn't help but notice that when she glowered her cheeks flamed even brighter then her hair. Her blue tank top strap was nearly falling off of her shoulder revealing the Angel scar to him once again. He looked away, the happiness leaving his face for once. Clary raised both eyebrows, almost forgetting her anger and when he turned back, his face was full of life again.

Clary noticed that his face was changed since the first time Clary met him. The lines were etched harder into his features and there was a certain something in his eyes that made her know everything he'd been through. Then there were the newer scars of battle that were strewn across his body. The newest one was right above his heart. Clary quivered at the memory that would never leave her mind.

"Jace, get out." She murmured. She reached across her body to retrieve one of the pale pillows that littered her bed. She gripped the silk material in her ashen hands for only a moment before the pillow was flying towards Jace's conceited head. As she knew he would, he caught it with an easy grace. In seconds, Jace was on his feet.

"Of course," Jace grinned that one grin that made her knees melt. Fortunately, she was perched on the wide bed and any giving out of the knees would take her nowhere.

Clary watched as Jace turned around and ambled out of the room. Had he gotten taller? She wondered as he was about to pass under the doorframe. She abruptly remembered what he held in his pianist's hands.

"Jace, give me back my pillow!" She hollered, pushing the sheets out of her way and throwing her slender body off the side of the bed. Jace turned around, his legendary smirk still in place.

"Oh? But it was a token of your appreciation." He faked surprise.

"Jace," Her voice was full of malice and ware. As he was Jace, that only made his leer wider. Clary extended a small hand forward, curling her fingers once in towards her palms as an invitation. Jace looked down pretending to be horrified at her notion.

"Clarissa, didn't your parents teach you manners? Once a gift is given you can't take it back," To make his point he hugged the pillow into his chest as if it were about to disappear. She gave him a dirty look and once again made the motion. He glanced briefly down at her hand then back up at her face before turning and marching pointedly to his room, pillow in hand. Clary groaned but didn't bother to retrieve her linen. She shuffled mournfully into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The bathroom was one of her favorite places in the house, strangely enough. The walls were painted a dim aqua color and the windows were tined to look a kind of misty white. The counters had tiny flecks of silver on them that matched the sink and the shower. A fan hung from the high ceiling, sending a cool breeze through the sharp room. Clary turned behind her to lock the door; glad she, at least, had some kind of privacy now. She used her feet to take off her white socks and stepped onto the navy bath mat hurriedly to avoid the cold marble floor. A shower would wake her up…

"I know you know where your brother is, and I would find it best for you to tell me," Maryse's sharp voice cut into any thoughts of the two teenagers sitting side by side on one of the Institute's benches. Brother and sister, Alec and Isabelle Lightwood both wore matching expressions of anger and worry. The air was tense and the silence coming from the two adolescents wasn't helping.

"Alec, Jace and you are parabatai so I know he'd tell you…" Maryse trailed off leaving Alec to finish the sentence. Her oldest son gulped yet didn't say a word. His only reaction was to glance out the window questioningly and a little bit accusingly. Alec quickly looked back down at his pale hands that were lined with runes both old and new.

"Isabelle, you spoke to Jace…" Isabelle's mother's voice had lost the iron wall that usually held out all emotion. Desperation leaked into it's fluid melody. Isabelle closed her eyes, imagining Jace's determination to go out fighting. The look on his face when she'd dealt out her low blow. She didn't know where he'd go though. Where he'd go and stay there… away from his family. Her eyes joined her brothers; downcast and filled with anxiety for their sibling.

"If I may?" Alec's head snapped up at the familiar voice of his boyfriend. He couldn't help the small smile that always found his face at the glitter and glam that was his lover. Magnus's eyes found his and Alec's smile disappeared at the wink he gave him. What was the warlock up to now?

"Warlock, we are in the middle of a family crisis here," Maryse spoke through her teeth. Her voice was steely with anger. Magnus didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled. Isabelle glanced at her brother as if to say, 'You're dating the guy who thinks he can stand up to our mother? I'm starting to think you're as psychotic as Jace.'

"Oh, I know. Remember I was the one pretending to be your son? Yes, I think I did a spectacular job indeed," He threw his last words at Alec, "At any rate, I also might have some ideas as to where your child may be hiding."

"You… You know where Jace is?" Maryse stuttered in disbelief. Isabelle flinched, she hadn't seen her mother this upset since Max. New anger towards Jace reverberated through her bones.

"Now, now, I never said that," Magnus's eyes seemed to glow at this point.

"No games, Warlock, if you ever expect to see my son again you better tell me where his brother is."

"Mom!" Alec's voice was appalled. He stood up from the bench hurriedly and stalked over to where his boyfriend stood.

"Alexander, Move away from that demon at this instant," Maryse's voice came out in a low growl that reminded Alec that she could and would remove him with force. Yet he couldn't find the strength to move. He stood pointedly beside Magnus and challenged his mother in a way he never had and never thought he would. Silently.

"Alexander Lightwood, You will stay right here," Maryse spat at her son. Pointing a steady hand towards where Isabelle was looking on with disbelief and some pride. Magnus moved behind Alec to leave the room.

"Where are you going, Warlock?"

"I am not your child, I am not under your orders and I really don't like you so I am leaving," Magnus shrugged as if it made no difference that this woman probably held thirteen different knives in various places on her body. He just seemed exasperated.

"I'll grab my coat," Alec spoke still looking at his mother. He felt many things. Nauseated, sick, guilty yet also powerful. He turned to follow Magnus out of the room before Isabelle's voice rang out behind him. He turned around in surprise and embarrassment at her obvious suggestion.

"Has anyone tried calling him?"

Jace was still chuckling when he walked into the guest room turned his room. It was tastefully painted a dark grey that suited him fine. The modest amount of possessions he owned was placed in appropriate places around the room. Everything was neat and orderly spare his cell phone and jacket which were thrown on the bed. As if by magic the familiar chiming began to emit from his phone. Jace flipped it open as he brought it to his ear.

"Hello?" He drawled.

"Jonathan Christopher Ligh-" Isabelle's angry voice began.

Jace flipped the phone shut and was about to toss it back onto the bed when it began it's chiming again. This time even the ringing sounded angry. Jace repeated his motions warily.

"Hello?" He asked again, his voice holding a bit more anger.

"Jace, you better not-"

Jace slammed the device shut again but kept it in his hand waiting. The chimes started again. Taking a deep breath Jace answered his cellphone.

"Isabelle, It's not like you to become redundant," He began. He lengthened the words in the way he knew Isabelle hated. It made him sound indifferent and lazy. He could practically see her knuckles turning white on the phone.

"It's not Isabelle," Alec's steely tone answered him. Jace wasn't all too surprised, though he had expected something a bit more original from his adoptive sister then just passing the phone to her brother. Alec's voice sounded angry and defensive so Jace knew the conversation wouldn't be good. He could not explain why he didn't hang up the phone then. Maybe it was because he knew it was all in lost efforts.

"Why hello there Alexander!" Jace worked to make his voice cheery.

"Jace."

"Mm?" Jace knew he was being evil. It was just too easy to remember everything that annoyed his siblings and use it to his advantage. He may not be part demon but that didn't mean he had to be good.

"Mom wants to talk to you," Alec said.

Jace waited patiently by the phone while maneuvering his free hand to pull off the used T-shirt he wore. It was quite difficult he had to admit. His hand kept repeatedly getting caught on the thin fabric and he had to start over. He found himself getting frustrated even before he had talked to the one person he had run away from. He grunted away from the phone until he was interrupted by an angry voice.

"Jace Lightwood! You are in so much trouble, young man," Maryse Lightwood's voice contained the amounts of acid only a Nephilim could produce. Jace knew he was on a suicide mission for interrupting but he couldn't help but ask his adoptive mother to hold on and placing the phone on speaker, he put it on his bed. He was now free to do as he pleased with his shirt.

"You have the nerve to ask me to 'hold on a second?" Maryse barked on the other line. Jace rolled his amber eyes at the phone. She briefly heard his adoptive mother asking her children why he wasn't responding. Then chuckled when Alec suggested he had followed through on his threat to throw the phone out the window. Overreacting much, Jace thought. This was not the first time he hadn't come back at night after going off to demon hunt. If anything it was less dangerous on the streets now that Valentine was taken care of. She was getting angry over nothing. He was Jace Herondale and he could do whatever he damn well pleased. On a whim's move, he spoke his last thought into the phone in a more intricate way.

"My darling Maryse," He was already hitting low with the way he was going, "Though I understand you may be worried about everything, you have no reason to be. I have made my decision and I am perfectly suited to do whatever I damn well want to. Say hi to the kids for me."

"JONATHAN CHRIS-" She was interrupted but not by Jace this time.

Clary stepped from the shower reluctantly, already craving the warmth it had brought. The marble stung her feet as they landed; she took the pain in stride, gripping a towel. Her long red hair had turned to dark locks that fell in wet clumps over her small face. As she looked in the mirror at her face she heard ringing coming from the other room. She paused trying to think what it could be. It wasn't the house phone of her phone. Her parents rooms were downstairs so… Jace. She hurriedly ran to her room throwing on the first things she saw on the floor. Jean shorts and a T-Shirt with her hair in a pony was how she ended up.

Clary slowly opened her door but had to pause when she lost the sound. In the silence she heard steady chatter coming from the guest room. No, Jace's room. She cautiously stepped out into the hallway, feeling the hardwood floors against her feet. Water dripped down her back staining her black shirt darker. As she stepped towards the door her heartbeat sped up. It was only when she had her hand extended to open the door did she straighten up in silliness. This was her house. How did Jace always make her feel that she had to sneak around?

To prove a point to herself she flung the door open and walked in while saying in a nonchalant voice that didn't match her mood at all.

"Are you talking to yourself again Jace?"

She was proud to see Jace whirl around his eyes open in shock and panic. Clary couldn't help but notice that he was shirtless. His tanned skin marked to perfection. She saw the scarred line where Valentine had stabbed him. She saw it as if it had fluorescent street signs pointing at is and screaming, 'LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!' She raised her hand to her mouth just as a bitter voice escaped the phone.

"Is that Clarissa?" A harsh female voice demanded.

"Nope!" Jace called though it was obvious it was. He threw down his hand to stop the call just as Clary turned to stalk back into the hallway. She didn't know what she was thinking; she was just angry. It seemed that anger was as familiar an emotion as fear nowadays. Not now… everything's fine now, a voice spoke into Clary's head. It was then that evoked the terror.

It only took Jace a moment to catch up to her, only a moment to turn her to face him. She stared at him. She had no more inhibitions; she was allowed now to savor his every feature. To enjoy the way he looked at her. She was allowed to like that his eyes lit up whenever she walked into the room. The way he always seemed to be itching to hold her in his arms. Then why didn't he? She couldn't help but thinking. She spoke only to break the silence.

"Jace, What happened?"

He looked at her for a moment, and then turned his eyes blank like he had just put his wall back up. She sighed but continued to wait for his answer. As if under pressure, one of his hands came up and ran through his silky blonde hair. Clary watched in mild interest as this happened. It wasn't until he spoke that she tuned back into the outside world.

"I ran away," He said.

"What do you mean you ran away?" She whispered, her eyes wide.

"Usually described with a long stick and a red spotted hanky…"

Clary said his name in warning.

"They were coddling me," He complained, throwing his hands up in the air and giving her a glare. She crossed her arms across her chest and matched his look with one of her own. I should have known that he was doing something idiotic. It was purely Jace.

"Then tell them to stop!" She exclaimed in frustration.

Jace made a low comment under his breath that caused an eye roll from Clary. From their positions on beside the stairs it would look like they were just chatting but just by walking into the room you could sense the tension and bitterness that was between them. Jace was looking at Clary blankly though his expression was too empty. Anybody who saw it could tell it caused him effort to keep it up. Clary must have realized this for she felt the need to say exactly what she was thinking out loud.

"You're not brave enough to stand up to your own mother? Demons yes but mothers? Hell no!" She snapped.

"You know what?" Jace had that evil glint in his eyes, Clary sucked in a breath. "I think I'll just put my location on my voicemail."

Clary relaxed, letting her slim arms fall to her side. A smile took the place of the angry expression, relief clearly visible in her eyes. She followed Jace back into his room where he punched in buttons on his phone. Clary let herself sink onto his bed, and watch his fluid movements. Every few buttons he would glance at her smirk then look back down at his phone. After about the fifth time she looked away, just the time that Jace pulled his speaker to his mouth. The next words caused Clary to scramble up off the bed and onto her feet.

"You've reached… one moment Clary… Jace's phone. I'm currently not available… mmm… I know Clary darling," He made a few noises into the phone before continuing, "At the moment so leave a message - Clary put your shirt back on."

The whole time he recorded the message he was staring at her, grinning devilishly at her furious expression. He snapped his phone shut at the end and they just looked at each other. It reminded Clary of one of those country movies she had once watched with Simon. She highly doubted Jace was about to pull out a gun and tell her that he'd slept with her wife but you never knew with Jace. It was an odd mix, their expressions. Jace's read amusement, expectance and evilness while Clary just looked angry and embarrassed.

Looking at them was like looking at a yin and yang.

"Jonathan Christopher Lightwood,"

"Yes, Clary darling?"

"You better start running,"

"Alright."

And they were off.

A peculiar sight the pair were, Magnus and Alec that is. Alec was bent over his coffee silently, bags under his blue eyes and his hair messy and uneven. Magnus was dressed in a contraption of glitter and sparkles. He rested his head against the seat and just observed his boyfriend.

"Could you track him?" Alec brightened a little at the new idea. A small bit of hope leaked into his pupils, just the tiniest bit though Magnus knew it would crush him with the force of a hundred speeding trains if the world wished it.

"I suppose," Magnus murmured, not really paying attention.

Alec glanced up at this, looking at his lover for the first time since they'd entered Taki's. He looked confused, thin eyebrows furrowed against the bags under his eyes. Though Magnus might try to hide his hesitation, Alec had been the only one in 300 years - literally - to be able to see what he truly felt. Shifting his weight to put his chin in his hand, Magnus looked into the Shadowhunter's eyes. That's where they stayed for a good piece of time, dueling silently until Alec looked away. Disappointed, Magnus drew his hand back and glared at him. Alec wasn't paying attention though; his eyes were on something outside of the window.

"Did you just see that?" Alec stuttered, pointing a shaking hand out the window.

"Hallucinating again, biscuit?" Magnus said.

Alec was now acting quite peculiar, having turned to sit on his knees, he had his nose practically pressed up against the glass. Sighing, the warlock whirled his fingers in the air pleasantly until he was looking back into the familiar eyes. Alec, unbeknownst to the decrease in time had just looked up from their battle. Magnus turned wearily to look out the window.

One thing you must understand about being an eight hundred year old warlock is it takes a lot to make you laugh. What was happening outside at that moment practically had Magnus' eyes watering in laughter.

Jace had just run into view, holding something plainly metallic in the air and glancing behind him furtively. His hair was mussed and his shirt didn't match his pants but he looked like he had a reason. The reason came in the form of a fiery red head that had just appeared looking lethal and cursing at Jace. Jace's expression of excitement vanished, and quick as a whip he was off again with Clary sprinting after him.

Turning back towards the now stunned Alec, Magnus put out a hand towards the Shadowhunter. Alec, still staring at out the window in shock, leaned forward and took it in his. Though his eyes were still cast upon Jace, his heart belonged to Magnus.

"Jace Lightwood, where are you?" Clary rasped.

She stood in a dank and wet alleyway between the side of Taki's and an old souvenir shop. Water continuously dripped in time with her heart, quickly yet surely. The run had felt superb. She didn't know she could run that fast. Yet Jace was still lost to her, having turned into this narrow beam and then cascaded out of sight. Sighing she turned to walk out of the alleyway.

"Clary," Jace murmured. Just in the way he said her name she felt the anger evaporate from her.

"Jace," She responded, her knees barely holding her slim body up. For a moment, gold met green, and that was all. A moment can't last forever though but this was close enough.

Their lips collided then, matching like puzzle to each other. Ferocious, Desperate and perfect they matched, everything in that one kiss. Clary's hands seemed to wound involuntarily into his golden hair, his arms wrapping tightly around her back. They were both attempting to pull each other closer. Jace, his arms cradled around the one person he cared for most in this world, felt right for the first time since that night in Idris. It was when they both pulled back for air that he whispered her name again, wanting to convey all his love in her name for all of his heart would be residing in her.

"I love you," She whispered, her voice hoarse with yearning. A kiss.

"I know," He chuckled. Another kiss.

A vibration. A groan. Clary didn't want him to answer it, didn't want him to be thinking of nothing else. She began to pull away reluctantly before yanked back by the collar of her T-shirt. Her eyes were wide just long enough to see something silver soar through the air behind Jace, and crash into the wall. Laughing she let herself lose herself in her angel again.

His lips then found the one place on her neck that made her gasp as a shudder coursed through her body. Chuckling still, Jace brought his lips to her ear.

"The phone deserved it," He muttered.

Laughing Clary pulled his lips back to hers.

"Of course he'd be with Clary," Isabelle said on the other end of Alec's phone. After he had witnessed the scene in front of Taki's, he had phoned his sister. Alec glanced out of the window again, mumbling a response before snapping the phone shut. Magnus was now laughing to himself once again as the scene continued in front of them.

Jace waltzed by completely at ease. This might have been normal if not for Clary who was slung over his shoulder in a fireman's hold and did not look all too happy about it. Alec groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jace slid into the entryway, almost losing his balanced at the overly polished floors. Glancing down at the hardwood he studied his reflection. His hair was in disarray and he was shirtless, he noted this fact in surprise. The doorbell rang and he wondered where Clary's parents were for half a second before he, with a sigh, walked slowly towards the door. When he flipped the lock and opened the door he caught his breath.

"Hello Jace," She whispered.

The door was slammed shut.

"Clary! It's for you!" Jace hollered, hurrying up the stairs again and meeting Clary in the hallway, "And it's a bit of a situation."

Clary glanced back up at Jace in confusion as she landed with a thud in the entryway.

"I thought you reserved that word for urgent things," She reminded him, pulling the door open breezily. The door was soon shut once more and Clary had her back pressed against it.

"Isabelle plus anger plus whip equals a situation," Jace hissed.

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_Reviews are like chocolate, an addiction. XD_


	3. Cross My Heart

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything. 'Nuff said.

Hey guys! It's Lily! Sorry for the huge wait but time was running short and thing's got a little left behind! My inspiration for this chapter is for my awesome best friend Caitlyn (who I happen to be co-writing this with) because I know that even though we fight and have our surprises, we'll always get over it. I've missed you, dear readers and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

_Jace slipped out of the door which, for once, had been left open just enough. His feet hit the wet grass with joy as he twirled around in the rain. The heavens, he thought, opened up just for me today. In the back of his mind was his father, hs father who said, "Don't go outdoors." Who said, "Don't go out in the rain." Who said, "The front yard is prohibited." His father, who he had disobeyed. It felt, he would never have admitted it to his father, wonderful to be alone in the rain and equally wonderful to feel like he was getting away with something. What he actually would have to admit to his father, because he knew he would, knew he would feel guilty, is that he went outside. Don't think about that, he screamed to himself in his head, enjoy the moment. So there he lay, on his back in the rain. He stretched his small legs as far they would go and closed his eyes. The last thing he saw was the gray skies before a voice broke into his outing. _

_"Jonathan?" He heard Michael Wayland shout and he panicked. Whenever his father called, he was supposed to come. Come right away without question or complaint. And that was _when_ his father let Jonathon out of his sight._

"JONATHAN!" _He heard his father roar and sat up as fast as he could, already imagining belt whipping against flesh. His mind whirled. How was he supposed to - how was he _going _to explain the wetness of his clothes? He could not have said he was in the shower - why would he wear his clothes in the shower? The back door, he thought, maybe I can get in through the back door. Even as he thought it, he knew it was useless. Father never left the back door unlocked and he, Jonathan Wayland, would be a fool to think otherwise. His only hope was to sneak in the front door, run to his room as quick as he could and change clothes but he knew it was pointless. Even his only hope was hopeless. _

_He could hear his father crashing down the stairs in a storm and he was still calling his son's name but this time there was worry in it. Jace took a deep breath. He could not tell which was soaking his face now - the rain or his sweat. With a heavy heart, he stood up and trudged towards the door. It flew open when he got there and his father's wild eyes met his own. An open palm came sailing through the air and he bit the inside of his lip, ready for impact. When skin met skin, Jace was sent backwards but he dared not speak, not shout out in pain, not even let his hand twitch to his cheek that he could feel turning red._

_"Where were you?" His father breathed although the answer was quite obvious. His father's white hair seemed to get whiter while his face got redder. _

_"ANSWER ME." He bellowed, his hand coming down across the side of Jace's head and Jace -small seven year old Jace- crumbled to the floor crying. _

_He could feel his father's eyes staring at him. Was he glaring? Was he looking down in disgust? Did he feel remorse? Jace did not dare look up. He could feel blood seeping out from his nose, into his mouth but he made no move to stop it. He was afraid. Afraid that one simple motion would bring another round of pain. He lay quietly when he felt Michael's toe nudge him in the rib._

_"Pitiful." Was spat at him and then he quietly walked away._

Yet, having Isabelle's eyes boring into him was worse than that.

They were sitting in the living room across from each other and Isabelle's hands were folded so tightly in her lap, they looked like a statues. Jace guessed they were only there so she would not reach for her whip. He calculated how fast he could move against how fast she would react if he lunged for it. Not that he was afraid of getting hit with the whip, he just wanted to see how Isabelle fared without it. The staring match went on.

A nervous Clary entered the room, drinks in hand. When she gently placed them down on the table between Isabelle and Jace, she analyzed what was happening. The tension in the room was thick and, right when Clary walked in, it had engulfed her too. The drinks sat on the table, untouched by either. She could tell by the way they were positioned that they would stay that way too. She kept looked back and forth - from black to gold when she realized she was still bent over the table. Straightening up, she contemplated just leaving them together to work it out themselves but it was quite obvious that one scenario might involve getting blood on the new carpet.

"Okay, Isabelle?" Clary's voice was shaking as much as her hand - very little. She turned her back to Jace and took a step towards the girl. Isabelle's face still faced Jace but her eyes twitched up to give Clary the penetrating gaze. Clary settled for the easier approach. "What brings you here?"

"What brings me here? What _brings _me here?" Isabelle repeated, pushing herself up off the couch. She laughed, shaking her hair back. "Isn't it obvious?" Her voice got cold and Clary's eyes narrowed a smidge, trying to anticipate what was coming. Not of her words, but of her actions. Her whip rang out and slashed inches away from Jace's chest. "_He's_ what brings me here." The only other girl in the room flinched, looking at her lover now.

"As I see it, sister dear," Jace said with a smile that was as sweet as lemon juice, "I did not pick you up, drag you or kidnap you here, therefore, you came of your own free will." He shrugged and Isabelle took a step forward, murder in her black eyes.

"You ran away! Ran a-_way_, Jace! What was I supposed to do? Just LEAVE you?" She shouted and Clary's hand moved involuntarily to her small ears.

"Yes," Jace said, smile dropping, he blinked several times. His eyes moved to Clary. "And I'm in total peril, am I not?" He drawled out his last few words, letting his grin work it's way slowly up again. Some shrubble was forming around his chin and jaw and it made the wild look of him more maddening for Isabelle. Her face was getting more red but then she stopped and closed her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she spoke with her eyes still shut.

"Jace. I really think you should come home." Her words were measured and in Clary's mind's eye, she saw Simon laughing with Maia. Keeping her tone cool must not have been easy but when she opened her eyes, she seemed to have calmed down.

"But Clary doesn't want me to. Do you, Clary?" He put his hands on his hips and turned to Clary, who was wide-eyed and looking between the two of them. She finally decided to act on her first thought.

"Oh no, no, no! No bringing me into this! You guys work this our yourselves!"

"Well, I think that's hardly fair! This whole thing is pretty much based around you!" Jace said, taking a step towards Isabelle and the table that stood between them and mortal combat.

"Based around me? How is this based around me? None of this would have happened if you hadn't run away! Running away was completely YOU, Jace!" Clary felt like screaming. She had just had enough with the tension, Jace's sarcasm and the whole situation. Jace opened his mouth but just ended up closing it again, looking back and forth between the two furious women.

Isabelle stepped forward and so did Clary while Jace stayed stationary. Clary's small hands were curled into fists by her sides and now Isabelle's whip was up and at the ready and anybody who didn't know him would have said Jace was almost completely relaxed. Those who did know him, on the other hand, would deny that but only by a bit. In fact, only family and Clary would have known he was upset. That's what Jace did though, only brought a few close so only a few could ever get mad at him. Clary wished she could get her hands on some plates.

"I wouldn't have run away if your mother wasn't so damn protective!" Jace shot back at a yell, taking a step forward now. Clary was breathing heavily and the next thing she knew, the brand-new coffee table was flying sideways from the force of a high-heeled boot. The drinks blasted off the table and shattered on the ground, spilling out onto the carpet. Isabelle looked absolutely deadly.

"She wouldn't be so protective if you weren't so damn reckless!" She shouted, taking another advancing step. The coffee table layed on his side seven feet away and Clary felt bad for it. It looked somewhat like a wounded animal. Clary wondered if she should step in between them but found she could not move her feet.

"I wouldn't be so reckless if the world didn't have it's challenges!"

"Oh there you go again, Jace! Blaming the world!" Isabelle shrieked. She knew what he hadn't said but today she had no mercy. Right _now_, she had no mercy. "You're only so reckless because of Clary! You're always trying to impress her, Jace!"

"What are you saying?" He fired, not even bothering to look at Clary, "Are you saying I wouldn't have run away if I never met Clary?"

"I'm _saying_," She yelled, her whip curled around Jace's wrist, pulling him to his knees. Even on his knees, Jace did not look less intimidating, "That life would have been a whole lot easier if you never met Clary!" Her words cut into the other girl like a knife while the weapon Isabelle held cut into Jace like, well, a whip.

"I think," Clary said in a strained voice that she hoped wasn't as loud as she would have liked, "You better leave, Isabelle."

"Don't you tell me what to do!" Isabelle took a step towards Clary now with a shout that echoed.

Clary was taken aback. "It's my house!"

"Technically," Said a soft voice from the entry way, "It's _ours_."  
The trio turned to the person who was speaking. Luke stood there looking increasingly more uncomfortable and Clary wondered how long he had been standing there. She also wondered if he would care that their newly-bought living room table was thrown aside like a forgotten shoe. The werewolf looked down at his feet and shuffled them, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. He cleared his throat and began to talk again.

"Isabelle," He quietly said. His calmness was almost paralyzing next to the scene Clary had just been in. "May I speak to you?"

With a scorching look at both of them, Isabelle was off to where the Downworlder was standing, her high-heeled boots click-clacking on the floor. Quietly, they walked outside together, leaving the two in the room staring after them silently. With a small grunt, Jace pulled himself to his feet and walked over to his girlfriend. She didn't look at him, not when he took her hand, not even when he gently brushed her neck with his lips. All she could think about was Isabelle screaming at him, _"Life would have been a whole lot easier if you never met Clary!" _

"Do you believe that?" She whispered but she knew he had heard her. After all, he was still standing close.

He knew what she was talking about but hoped it was something different. "Believe what?"

"What Isabelle said," And she added in case she wasn't making herself absolutely clear, "About me."

From behind, he wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered into her small shell-like ear, "Would you believe me believing that?"

"Just answer me for once, Jace!" She turned to face him and her arms fell around his neck.

"Yes," He said, closing his eyes, "Life would have been a whole lot easier if I never met you but the Angel knows it would have been a hell of a lot less fun."

They smirked at each other and he dipped his head closer to hers and her arms tightened around his neck when the same voice cleared it's throat from the doorway once more. Jumping apart, Clary heard Jace mutter something about 'worst timing ever.'

"Well?" Clary asked, not really wanting to know what had happened.

"Isabelle's gone home." Luke said but just as he uttered the words, the dark haired girl strutted into the room. Her eyes were darker than they had ever been and they were set on the handsome young man adjacent the redhead.

"I just thought I'd remind you, that protective woman isn't just _my _mother, Jace." And from the corner of Clary's eyes, she could see the pulse quicken at his throat. With that, she stalked out.

"Well," Luke said awkwardly, "At least I thought she had."

* * *

Jocelyn had been sitting alone in Luke's pick-up truck outside their home. Half of her had wanted to go to make sure everything was alright but that's what Luke was doing at the very moment and the other half was just plain exhausted. Almost all of the house's lights had been on and she desperately wanted to know what was happening. A crash thundered from the sitting room and her heart had jumped a notch. What in the world was going on in there? But like a good girl she did what her beau had told her to do. Sit. Stay. Of course, getting those orders from a werewolf was somewhat comic and she had laughed internally. Her heart had been thumping now when she had heard the shouts and she had almost bolted to the rescue. _Stop that, _Jocelyn had told herself, _You don't always have to be the hero. _But, sitting there, thinking of chaos between her child and someone else and her not going over was almost treason in Mother-land. Thinking of somebody else comforting and fixing made it even worse. Trying to get her mind onto something else, she had picked her perfect nails absently. The bad thing about doing something absently is it made a lot of room to think about things and her thoughts had once again swept to the house that she was not feet from. All she had to do was walk up the steps_. No, Luke's got it in hand. Don't intervene_. So there she had sat, hands folded in her lap like a school girl's and tried not to think of anything.

Later, she did not know how much later although the sun had gone farther down the sky, she had seen Luke and Maryse's daughter march outside to the very same wall where she spoke to Clary. Immediately, her curiosity radar had gone into hyper drive. Gently, she had pushed herself onto her knees and stuck her dainty head out of the car's window, hoping to catch snippets of the conversation. There was a slight wind outside and her sweeping hair flew around her head, sometimes blowing in front of her eyes and temporarily obscuring her sight. Unfortunately, no words drifted her way, just wind had. Isabelle had her arms crossed and, in her boots, was frightening taller than the werewolf even was. She had been tapping her foot and had seemed upset. Jocelyn had tried to lip-read what they were speaking but it had just seemed like meaningless gabble_. Why would they be speaking about goats_? She had squinted her eyes and stuck more torso out of the open window. She had seen Luke reach his arm out as if to pat her in a comforting way on her shoulder but he hesitated and let it fall instead. Her green eyes had flicked between the two, different as could be. Downworlder and Shadowhunter. Old man and young woman. Warrior and warrior. Always fighting and it was usually against each other. As strange as it was, he had seemed the one to soothe her and yet, she seemed to get along better with him than people more close to her status, Jace for example. She was sure they had their good times but she was basing her reading on the moment. Not able to take it anymore, she had crept out of the clunker and hurried to their sides.

"What's going on?" Burst out of her mouth before she could stop it. She had been wondering for it for too long and could not wait a second longer.

"What's going _on_," Isabelle had cut in while Luke was still opening his mouth, "Is that Jace won't come home!"

"Well, I wouldn't say _won't_ exactly," Luke had interjected quietly but Jocelyn was thundering on before he could say more.

"What do you mean he won't go home? Is it because I said he could stay with us?"  
"You? - well, you're no help, now are you?" The raven-haired woman had stormed. In a argument like this, she needed everybody on her side to even get him to _consider _coming back to their home, Alec and their mother's waiting arms.

"Isabelle," Luke had picked his voice up so that for once he was not run over again, "It's nice that you care enough about your brother to come over and try to get him back -"

"Are you telling me to go home and leave him?"

"You didn't let me finish," He had looked up at her through the glasses that were perched on the tip of his nose, "It's nice that you care enough about your brother to try and get him back but I think we can take it from here. We'll do all that we can to try to make him move back home.

Jocelyn had jumped in with a swift, "I'm sure it won't take long for him to get over this tantrum."

Isabelle had looked at her skeptically, "You sure don't know Jace at all, do you." She had shaken her head and it looked like she had been wondering whether Clary's mother was sane. She had kept her eyes focused on the older woman, possibly watching to see if she would start dancing like a monkey.

Luke had looked at the women and sighed, shaking his head a little bit. Without another word, he had given Isabelle's back a pat that was partly a push to go home and walked in the door. The small push that Luke had given said, 'get back home.' They both had looked after him and the redhead had tried to catch glimpses of what was happening inside her home. She couldn't hear anymore shouting. She could not hear shattering, smashing, breaking, throttling, choking, gasping or shrieking so she guessed things were calmed down.

Jocelyn had stared at Isabelle while she, too, walked into the house.

Isabelle was right, Jocelyn barely did know this young man. What had they gotten themselves into?

* * *

Simon crashed through the forest, knowing he should probably call out the name of whom he was looking for. He found he could not, his heart was too heavy_. Your heart is made of stone, of course it's heavy_, the trees whispered to him while the wind sung something different. The cool breeze sing-songed_, although your heart may not be beating, it still can love_. Simon desperately hoped this was true; he was still so unsure about his feelings. He sank to a crouch as he lept through the woods, trying to find the right scent that would lead him to the person he was told to see. Part of him hoped she was hiding from him so he would not have to go through with it while the rest of him absolutely knew that he would not be able to muster up to courage again if this time did not work. He could tell he was getting closer when that familiar smell hit his sensitive nose. Maia was near.

"Maia?" He whispered, his voice carrying.

"Yeah?" She stepped out from behind a tree and even Simon, with his super vampire senses, was not expecting it. He jumped back a few feet - farther than he would have jumped back if he was still human. His hand flew to his chest and his breathing sped up for half a second. He could make out every one of her features. Her dark hair and just a touch lighter skin. Her full chest. With a blush, he moved his gaze back up to her eyes. She was smiling and, right away, seeing the white teeth seemingly glow in the night brought a grin to his chalky cheeks.

"Scared you?" She asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Only as much as a werewolf can," He answered, leaning against a tree casually. His skin probably would have been a greenish-hue if such a thing were possible anymore. He also advanced, afraid to make any sudden moves.

"And this is coming from a vamp." There were inches apart and Simon lightly draped a hand on her waist. A slight heat rose in her cheeks and the rose mixed with the brown of her skin into a beautiful mahogany that made him catch his breath. Maia was scanning his face intently and she slowly lifted her hand to it. A light shudder rippled through him as she lightly grazed the side of his face. Her hand moved to his glasses and softly plunked them off. He had almost forgotten that he was wearing them; he had gone home after going to Clary's and going home meant wearing glasses. He continued to stare down at her, everything clear in his unusually vivid vampire vision. He did not take his eyes off of her when he heard the soft thud of his spectacles being put on the forest floor. Simon could not take it anymore; the heat radiated from her closeness was too much. With a gentle gasp and a pull away, he was feet away from her again.

The hurt look on Maia's face swiped at him but he did not dare move right away. He took some gentle breaths although they were not necessary, he hoped it would calm him down. His eyes shifted down to his feet and he quietly stared at them while a blush rose into his ashen cheeks. He hoped she would not notice but he could not tell where her eyes were leading her.

"Want to play tag?"

"_Tag?" _Simon's head snapped up at the absurdity of it. Downworlder's didn't play tag. It just wasn't done! There was probably a law about it somewhere. Thinking he had misheard he asked, "Did you say _tag?" _

"Did your super bloodsucker senses fail you? Yes, I said tag." Maia was openly grinning now and he hoped their rough patch was over. But he had come for a purpose and he had to get it out before he forgot ... or chickened out.

"Um, actually," Simon said, looking uncomfortable now, "There was kind of, uh, something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Well, you're going to have to catch me!" And then she was running. Simon did not move from his perch on the ground. His eyes followed her around the tree closest him. Then the next. She grabbed the trunk and swung around until she faced him.

"What? _Chicken?" _She taunted him with one her of her famous cheeky smiles. His eyes narrowed will his own smile grew.

"I bet I could catch you in less than 30 seconds." He took a step forward as Maia flung herself the same length of of a step backwards from him. She danced from foot-to-foot, always inching farther away with each pace.

"How much?"

"What?" The question stopped his advance.

"How much do you bet?"

"Uh," The vampire thought as fast as he could, "If I lose, I'll be your servant for a day."

Maia laughed. "Is that the best you can do?"

Then the movement started again. Backwards. Forwards. Backwards. Forwards. Although the werewolf never looked behind her, she never hit a tree in her retreat.

"What do you suggest?"

"If I _win,_" An evil grin worked it's way up to her eyes and played poker up there, "You have to hang with my pack for a whole day!"

"Are you KIDDING?" Simon practically screeched in surprise, "30 seconds with those guys and they'll have ripped me to shreds!"

"Oh come on. The new Council is all about cooperation and getting along!" He knew that she was just talking about the Council, not vampires and werewolves all over the world. "We're just an example of that, aren't we?"  
"In general or right now?"

But the answer would have to be put on hold for Maia was making Simon eat her dust once again. Without a second thought, he was in her footsteps. The vampire speed was pretty much equal to the werewolf's and she always kept just out of his reach. She usually let him get a few swipes at her back but it was nothing to get a hold.

Simon let out a small playful snarl, "You get back here, missy!"

The wound around tree after tree, missing them with easy grace that only a Downworlder could produce. Ten seconds had already passed and they were ticking by with each and every lunge. Maia laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair was slowly trailing out of it's braid and blowing in the breeze like the wind itself - except darker. He reached out again and the strands of her hair brushed the back of hand like the softest kiss on earth. 20 seconds now and, if he could have sweat, he would have been at that moment. Sure, Simon was usually on the losing side of anything and everything but this time he felt like he just _needed _to win. He felt the sudden urge to impress her. Suddenly, she turned the corner around two trees closely packed together and there were branches sticking out every which direction. Simon turned the corner so fast that even his highly developed senses could not connect to the branch jumping out right at head level. His senses did not connect with it - his face did. The sharp slap against his iron skin was a neat pinch but sent him a few steps back from the suddenness of the blow. Maia peeked around the trees at a very surprised looking Simon.

The look of him ruffled her. "What happened?"

But then with the force that only a vampire could produce, he sprung straight up in the air, grabbed the branch that had smacked him and lightly tapped her only the shoulder with a second to spare as he swooped to the ground.

"Got you." He said with a wink while he slid down behind her. She spun around on her heel and came nose-to-nose with the vampire. He thought her breathing caught a little bit in her throat and that familiar blush of his worked it's way up to his cheeks.

"So, what do you want?" Maia breathed.

This question put a small crinkle between his eyes as he thought about it. He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by it but he was almost certain that it was because they had only discussed what would happen if he _lost, _not won. She had seemed so sure of herself and, for once, Simon was happy he wasn't as self-confident.

He tilted his head closer to hers and touched their forehead's together. Her eyes slid to half-closed and a small shudder rippled through her and he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her closeness wrap around him like a blanket of air. Simon gently pulled her forward and the movement flowed like water as their eyes met in perfect matrimony.

"I want you." His lips shaped themselves around the words before he was even ready to speak them, to know them, to acknowledge them. Still, it was something that needed to be said before they lost each other in the whirling madness called life. His arms were like chains around her and she threw her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. Their lips collided in a whisper of the night, the words hanging around them like the butterflies in his stomach. He took a step forward while she took a step back and against his chest he felt her back hit a tree. He untangled his grip from around her waist to either side of her head. Neither stopped for air although one of them would have to after some time while the other would not. Maia pulled away and Simon knew it was to breathe. His lips seemed to move on their own and shifted down to her neck, drifting down as soft as the breeze surrounding them. He felt her gasp slightly as his teeth brushed her collarbone and smiled against her skin. Her hands fell to her sides, feeling the rough bark like a bed to fall asleep in. He heard her muttering something over and over and he was grazing his way up her neck to her mouth when he heard the words falling from her almost closed lips. _Simon, Simon, Simon. _It was like a song where the words were only spoken.

With a sudden pull, he was feet away from her again, his lips empty. His eyes were wide and Maia looked like she could not register that she was suddenly standing alone. The shock slowly dawned on her as color slowly flooded her skin; it was as if that he had been holding her so hard that her circulation had been cut off. Simon's eyes shifted to the sides, looking for a hole he could shrivel up and die in. Unfortunately, a hole could not come up with what was required to kill a vampire so dying was out of the question. He would have to make do with shriveling up.

"Maia, I -" His voice matched his attitude at the moment - deflated.

"Shush." She said, pushing herself away from the tree. In one single bound, she was face-to-face with him once more. Her arms slung themselves around his neck but they were not as loose as they had been a minute ago. "Got you." Maia grinned.

In a swift movement, Simon had picked up the werewolf and was holding her up so he could look into her eyes without craning his neck downwards. Although not completely uncomfortable, it was not as fun. He slowly traced a trail to her ear with his nose and felt his words slip through, out off his tongue.

"You've always had me."

The next thing he knew, his face was brought back to hers and he tightened his grip, trying to erase the uncertainty he had felt before with a gesture. Their bodies sung the song of the lovers as the darkness swallowed them whole.

* * *

_1. 2. 3. _Clary felt as if she was in Kindergarten again as she carefully numbered every one of her journals pages in the top right-hand corner. It wasn't for a system or organization or anything of the sort, it was to get her mind off of the fight that had happened just the other day. She tried to use every ounce of her concentration on putting the tiny digits on the paper. _7. 8. 9. _Time was ticking away with every stroke of her pen. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, trying to remain perfectly still. If she happened to fidget, her mind just might wander because she had broken free of her spell and it might enter a place where she was desperately trying not to go. She flipped page after page, letting her writing utensil caress them lovingly. _14. 15. 16. _A picture of a cup flitted past her eyes on the paper but she didn't let it sink in. The past was the past, after all. But some pasts were more recent than others and, therefore, less easy to forget. Then, there was page 23. Page 23 must have been one of her most beautiful creations - and one of her most terrifying. The background around the strong figure was sketched in black and the broken, tarnished wings were just a shade lighter. Anyone who knew Jonathon - the real one, her actual brother - would have thought she was crazy to have drawn wings from the demon's back but to her, to Clary, it was something different. The wing's weren't those of an angels, yet they weren't those of the evil either. They were beaten and blackened and looked most entirely dead. They were the wings of Jonathon. Her eyes moved from the wings on his back to his face which was almost frightful. It was a look of complete bliss but it was off-kilter. Even inked, there was a wild glint in his eyes that made her feel she was being observed.

With a quick flip of her wrist, Jonathon's face was once more hidden. This time, she struggled to pen in the small numbers. Clary kept checking over her shoulder, Jonathon's body still quite fresh in her mind. Images flowed over and over in her mind, always flashing back to the drawing. She was shivering slightly and she hadn't realized that somebody had entered the room until a muscled arm slipped around her shoulders. The muscles pressed against her back and Clary flinched away with it, thinking of her brother. She held still for a moment, not daring to look over her shoulder. Quivering slightly and listening intently, she twisted her head just enough to see out of the corner of her eye. Golden eyes stared back at her, perched on the edge of her bed. With a sigh, she let out the breath she didn't even know she had been holding in. The both froze, sinking into each other's stony gazes. Clary broke free and inched back into the comfort that was Jace. Jace soothingly rubbed circles against her shoulders with his thumb. Both just sat there, listening to each other breathe. Neither looked at the other, they just stared straight ahead, reflecting.

"Don't worry about it," Jace's voice broke the silence although it was no louder than a hushed whisper. Clary turned and stared him deep in his eyes, trying to dig some type of emotion out of him. Any type.

"Aren't _you _worrying about it?" She asked him, rotating around so she was practically sitting on his lap. Jace did not seem particularly disgruntled about that fact. She could almost hear his response word for word and was not surprised by what he said.

"There's nothing to be worried about." Clary sighed again after he spoke, relaxing a bit in his warm hold. The circling of his thumb on her arms halted abruptly as his head snapped upwards. Clary's head followed about a second after as her ears picked up what had already been heard by the man sitting next to her. Soft thumping came from the stairs, slowly and surely getting louder. Clary noticed that Jace was sitting as rigid as he had ever been, his ears standing at attention.

"Should you be in here?" Clary breathed, her hand resting on her stiff thigh. Jace kept staring towards the door, even when he answered her.

"Well, let's just say that if I was a parent, I wouldn't exactly be pleased to find my daughter's boyfriend on her bed during the night."

The footsteps were increasingly getting louder until they sounded just outside the door.

"So what are you going to do? There's no way you can get to your room now." Clary jumped to her feet, scanning for a place to hide him. Her eyes locked on the garbage can sitting in the corner of her room. Jace's line of sight followed her and their eyes met, his eyes narrowed.

The click of the doorknob got Jace on his feet too and Clary spun, eyes wide to face him. His index finger flew up and met his lips in a 'shush' gesture. The door handle was turning and as the door was swinging open, Clary's mouth opened. She didn't know what she was going to say. Was she going to shout a warning? Or was she going to start babbling out an excuse for having him in her room right when whoever it was set foot into her bedroom? Before anything could leave her lips though, Jace had bolted into her bathroom. Her teeth snapped together as she felt air hiss through them.

"Clary?" Jocelyn stepped through the doorway and Clary turned on her heel, catching a glimpse of her bathroom door clicking shut out of the corner of her eye. Seeing her daughter standing in the middle of the room with what seemed like no obvious purpose, she said, "What are you doing?"

"You know, you really should knock before entering someone's room." Clary said, her mind reeling for an answer to her mother's question.

"That didn't answer my question, Clary." Her mother crossed her arms, staring down with that interrogating stare.

"I was just, just -" Clary's eyes scanned around her room, thinking of an excuse, "Just going downstairs to get some food."

"Food? You just ate."

"I'm a teenager, mom. We're always hungry." Clary stated and was glad when a laugh broke her mother's tough exterior. Clary could feel her heartbeat thumping heavily in what felt like her stomach. She desperately hoped her mother would believe her.

"You asked me a question, mother so now it's my turn. What are you doing barging into my room?"

"I was, as you put it, 'barging' into your room because I was wondering how you were feeling. I know what happened between you guys and her, you know." Clary could just imagine her mother adding an, 'I'm not as clueless as you think' and almost giggled against her will. Her mother took a step further into the room and Clary sank back onto her bed, her eyes darting towards the bathroom door. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." She couldn't count how many times she had reassured people with those exact words. "I'm fine," She repeated, as her mother came and sat next to her on the bed.

"If you want to speak about anything," Jocelyn patted her hand soothingly, putting her other arm around her daughter's shoulder. Moments ago, that was where Jace's arm had been and having an arm around her that was not his just felt different, not correct. She could almost swear she heard the water running in her washroom. _What is he doing in there? _Clary turned her head fully towards the door now, listening. She was certain water was running.

"What's that?" Her mother asked, hearing the gush of the liquids.

"Um, I think I left the tap on. Actually, mom, I am kind of tired. It's been a tough day. I think I will go to bed." Clary felt bad for lying to her mother but needed to know what Jace was doing. Wasn't the whole point of him hiding to _not _be found?

"Okay.." Jocelyn reluctantly agreed, her eyes not leaving the source of the water sounds. Her eyes found her daughter's and sought deep in them as she slowly left the room. With a few quick dashes towards the door, she shut it once more and then raced to the bathroom where the sounds had stopped. Throwing the door open, Clary felt her eyes widen as she stared down at the towel-ladden boy in the cramped space. Jace's hair was the darker shade that was obvious wetness.

"Wh- what were you doing?" She stammered, trying the best to look away from his perfect chest and the fact he was only wearing a towel. "It sounded like you were having a shower or something."

"That I was, my darling Clary." He said, running his hand through his damp, tousled hair.

"While my _mother _was in the room?" Clary almost screamed. What was Jace trying to accomplish by pissing off everyone he knows?

"What better time? I was _dirty._" Clary could see the amusement flashing behind his golden eyes.

"No, Jace, that's just your mind." Clary could not help but to blurt it out. He took a step closer to the redhead, brushing his fingers teasingly in a trail from her shoulder to her elbow. His eyes twinkled as they dug into hers.

"Oh?" He said, pulling her to his body. He planted his lips on the side of her neck, softly kissing down until he met her shoulder. Laughing gently, Clary pushed him away lightly, keeping her hands on his chest. Jace pouted, leaning his head towards hers.

"Go get some clothes on."

"Yes, _mom." _Jace said sarcastically, rolling his eyes while Clary pecked him on the lips.

"No, mister. If this was Jocelyn," She smiled as she pulled away, "You'd be washing your mouth out with soap right now."

* * *

Clary sat under a tree that was on the front lawn of the new house, book pulled to her nose. She just couldn't focus; her mind kept flashing back to Jace. Frustrated, she set her book on her journal. She just couldn't stop letting her mind wander pointlessly. Jace was busy meeting up with Magnus for a reason she was unaware of and she felt stupid just sitting there but didn't feel like sketching. Crossing her legs, she breathed in a huge sigh of good old air. Clary closed her eyes, finally let her mind roam wherever it would. The light breeze blew her hair slightly across her face but she did not make any move to brush it away. It tickled her cheeks and she sighed happily. Suddenly, she felt the heat on her face curb and she opened her eyes.

There stood a man, light brown balding hair and looking very professional in a gray business suit. His small, squinting brown eyes hid behind large horn-rimmed glasses that stood at attention on the bridge of his nose. Lines were etched hard in his face but he did not look unfriendly.

"Hello, are you Clarissa Fray?" He asked, looking down at Clary. Clary jumped to her feet, her mind working overtime. Anything involving a man looking like this could not be good. She could tell from his overall appearance that he was a mundane. A very mundane mundane.

"Yes.." She stood on guard, still cautious.

"Hi," He stuck his hand and gripped Clary's in a shake that felt much stronger than he was, "My name is Brett Kirkswell and I'm here on behalf of The New York City University scholarship program. We were very impressed with the application and drawing you sent in and we would be honored to ha-"

"Mr. Kirkswell, I don't mean to interrupt but may I ask which drawing I sent in?" Clary's heart was racing. She had never heard of Brett Kirkswell or the scholarship at The University of New York City. She never sent any of her drawings in and knew none of her family would have without telling her or asking her first.

"Oh, it was a quite impressive one, you see," Brett rambled on. He seemed a very pleasant man, on of the too friendly 'next-door neighbors.' "Very fine detail and the edges very sharp. Catches the eye, you see-"

"Yes but what w_as _it?" Her impatience beated over her manners at that moment and she felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest as she waited for him to answer.

"Oh. One of a boy- a man, if you will. Dark and a little bit disturbing but very good, _very _good hand structure, you see. Now, one thing that peaks my curiousity, whatever made you decide to draw th-"

Heart pounding in her ears and blocking out everything Mr. Brett Kirkswell went on about, she reached down in a flash and ripped open her journal. The moment she saw what she had been hoping was a joke; her beating heart froze. Page 23 was gone.

* * *

Reviews are better than hiding in bathrooms.

* * *


	4. Breakable

_Hey guys! It's me, Caity here. I know I know, it's been forever since I have updated both times it was my turn to write. THIS TIME, I have an actual good excuse. It's a little thing called nanowrimo. In short, I wrote a 50,000 word novel in a month. Both Lily and I did this and since all of our free time was spent writing our novels, this was severly neglected until last week where I was at home sick the whole time. 8D_

So yes, this chapter could not have been written without the help of my best friend Lily, for proof reading and poking me with a stick until I'd write again. I love you girlie!

_Now it is 10:00 PM at night and I still have a bunch of homework to finish so I'll leave you with the chapter? I'm having major Writer's block so please excuse the suckiness in general. Though, it was sort of fun writing at parts. And plus I got my Macbook so alls well that ends well. _

_Oh yes, and the inspiration for this chapter was the song Breakable by Ingrid Michaelson. Look it up, it's wonderful!_

_Oh, and despite my plans for world domination, I still don't own anything._

_Let the games commence! _

_P.S Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! You guys make me want to keep writing!_

**

* * *

Chapter Four - Secrets**

Every so often you get some funny characters walking in down town NYC. Someone who's openly out of place, outstandingly weird and frighteningly strange. Less often, very rare indeed do you seem someone who's so inwardly different. It radiated off their pores. Today was one of those days.

No, he didn't have fluorescent pink hair or three dozen piercing hidden under his clothes. He didn't wear spandex or metallic vests, and he didn't bear chains and chains of gold jewellery. Yet, as he walked it seemed different than normal. He seemed… lethal, and truly angry yet pure somehow. Like… a serial killer angel. Like Lucifer, the angel that was banished from Heaven. Though this male, he just seemed overly pissed off.

Jace tromped along the streets of downtown New York. Sweat gathering at pools on his neck from the intense heat. He had a pensive frown on his face, though you could see in his eyes that he wasn't really happy. The farther he walked the more the buildings turned to look more like warehouses, for storage only. He didn't seem aware of his surroundings though, his mind was in the clouds, storm clouds maybe.

Finally, he seemed to snap out of his trance at the same time the storage houses melted into large apartments and grungy town houses. As he approached one of the more… extravagantly unextravagant places he swung up on one of the wrought iron lamp posts and angrily jabbed a button in the wall.

There was an annoyed buzzing before a clear superior voice came through the intercom.

"Who be?"

"Let me in warlock before I use your boyfriend as a punching bag," Jace growled, though his body remained relaxed.

He was responded with an impatient sigh. Jace suddenly felt a heat on his feet, then his entire body was engulfed by the uncomfortable temperature. His head whirled as his eyes were shrouded by purple dust.

When he gained his sight back he was coughing and sputtering the violet smoke, muttering colourful things under his breath. He was in Magnus's apartment though it was more… ordinary then when he held his parties. There were modern bright orange couches piled around a huge flat screen T.V and one whole side of the wall was covered with mirrors. Figures the warlock was conceited.

Speaking of warlocks, Magnus was seated primly upon the only chair in the house, a high back aqua piece with oak arm rests. He looked extremely amused of the shadow hunter in his house. He was the usual sparkly self, his hair so spiky you could compare it to some kind of hippy porcupine.

"Now now, it's rude to pop in without a greeting," He chided mockingly.

Jace glared, brushing off his dark jeans and similar top. A few stray sparkles had fallen into his golden locks, reflecting off the extremely bright lights that adorned the apartment.

"You brought me here warlock, now tell me what you wanted so I can be on my way," Jace grouched, looking around edgily from wall to wall. He wasn't in the mood to play coy. For all he knew Alec could be hiding in any one of the kitchen cupboards.

"Is it not enough to request company from one of my dear friends?"

Jace shot him a look.

"Sorry Nutmeg, none of them were available so I settled for you," Magnus sung, his eyes raking over Jace's tall form. Jace felt violated some how, but didn't do anything about it and just stood tall.

"Oh, you know you were drawn in by my stunning good looks and charming personality," Jace amended, flashing a dazzling smile at Magnus.

"And I can't make pigs fly," Magnus mused, snorting a laugh. Jace's expression immediately went back to being serious. Magnus sighed.

Magnus noticed how the Shadowhunter subtly searched the apartment with his eyes, wary in his look. He knew that he was staying with Clary and that even with a threatened whipping by Isabelle he hadn't caved. Yet, he was still confused about it. Why was he doing it? If he wanted to spend time with Clary he could easily ditch. Lord knows he'd done it before. When Magnus looked hard enough he could almost see something in the young man's eyes, before it was gone. The wall slamming down harder then before.

"Unless you were just practicing you're flirting techniques, then you must have had something you wanted to tell me. And by the way, it didn't work. I'm still utterly repulsed," Jace said, shifting his weight a little as if staying still bothered him.

"I just wanted to -"

"Magnus?" A third voice called, one that was familiar to both of them. Jace cursed under his breath before striding up to the warlock, towering over him with anger in his tawny eyes.

"Was this your plot Magnus?" He growled, finger twitching to hit something.

"Plot? Oh please, plotting is for sissy's. Only the real dare devils just let things happen," Magnus whispered, a coy smile playing on his lips.

Jace growled unintelligible before turning towards his original idea of a hiding place. He flung open one of the high steel cupboards and shoving aside a large container of what looked like bleach, he settled himself in a crouch inside. The door shut with a thwack just as another door opened with a creak.

"Magnus?" Alec said, clearly confused, "Is anyone here with you?"

There was a subtle hint of assumed jealousy in Alec's words, as his eyes raked feverishly around the apartment. They passed right over the cupboards that a now very uncomfortable Jace was sitting in and locked with the warlock's.

Magnus let out a throaty chuckle before standing up and striding over to Alec, his expression amused and soft. He lifted a long glittering finger to Alec's chin and lifted it up so they were looking each other eye to eye.

"There is someone here darling, but he's about as attractive to me as a sterile iguana," Magnus soothed, jerking his thumb towards the slightly open cupboard. Alec's dishevelled head whipped around to see what was hiding. His dark eyes brooding he stepped carefully closer to the cupboard, as if it were to explode at a moments notice. He reached out a tentative hand and then -

Crash. Jace was rolling out of his hiding place and was on his feet a second later, the door to the cupboard thrown several feet across the room. He didn't look bothered by destroying Magnus' furniture, only slightly satisfied by the destruction. He turned to look at his adoptive brother, gold eyes meeting blue.

"Good afternoon Alexander," He said, gesturing broadly with his hands.

"Jace-" Alec began, his eyes wide.

"No need to speak, I get it, I get it," Jace responded lightly. Alec blew out a visible sigh at this but Magnus just crossed his arms and lifted a thin eyebrow.

"You two want to be alone to 'canoodle', no need to ask me twice, we all need a release some days," Jace's face was filled with mock seriousness, though his eyes danced wickedly.

Alec managed to blush and glare at the same time, as Jace traipsed towards the door. Alec reached out a hand to catch hold of the boy's arm but it only caught air as the door slammed shut with a bang. You could hear nothing on the other side.

* * *

Impossible, this is impossible. Just moments ago it was here, in her sketch book. Impossible! No one had moved it, no one had found the god damned thing because it was in the exact same place as she had left it!

Clary paced quickly around the front of her house, from the mailbox to the steps leading inside and back again. Her arms were tucked tightly behind her back and her scarlet hair was flying in a torrent behind her. Her face looked even paler then usual and her emerald eyes were as wide as saucers as she tried to figure it out. Minutes ago she had said thank you in a stunned voice to the stout man, and watched as he walked away, still clutching her drawing in his hands. She could of asked for it back but she didn't want it. She had wanted it to be in the forgotten pages of her diary, tucked away forever and to never of been revived yet there it was, placed in a strangers hands.

Clary let out a frustrated cry that was half a yelp and half a groan. She stopped pacing for a moment to just look up at the crystal blue sky and think. Sebastian, err… Jonathan's picture had been in her sketchbook, she knew it had been there yesterday. And her diary was under her mattress, so no once could of gotten it while she was asleep. Then when she'd woken up she'd showered briefly, then went and gotten it out of the exact same place. How could this of happened?

There were two possibilities that seemed the most likely so far. Each one not very liked. A) One of her family members had been going through it and had decided to send it in as a joke. B) Someone wanted to send out a message that was made pretty clear by the drawing and the person that had drawn it.

A) wasn't very likely, her whole family hated Jonathan almost as much as she did and plus, there were plenty of other drawings in her sketchbooks. She was almost certain that they wouldn't of done that. That left B). But why? One of Valentine's followers maybe? But that still didn't make any sense. How would they know where she lived let alone who the drawing was of. She'd taken it that no one knew who Jonathan was save Valentine. Ugh.

She resumed her pacing at a more frantic speed now as her mind whirled over this. Until she stopped again, this time right in front of the window to her living room. She looked inside at the now slightly lopsided coffee table and remember something. Jace. Jace couldn't know about this, he'd freak. Not only would he probably blow this out of proportions and stay up all night worrying, he'd probably lock her up in a padded cell until they could figure it out.

No, he couldn't know about this. She won't tell him.

Clary sighed then, pulling out the crumpled letter from the pocket of her jean shorts. She looked down at it though not really reading it before smoothing it out with her pale fingers. There's no reason she couldn't benefit from this right? A few art classes for free weren't that bad. Plus, if she didn't respond or said no then there was a chance that the man would come over again, he seemed pretty set on having her join the course.

She'd have to tell them tonight, tell them about the man but not about the drawing. Then she'd have to play the best acting game of her life to save her boyfriend, though she knew it still wouldn't be enough.

* * *

Jace blew through the door, his anger dissolving at the thought of seeing Clary, holding her again. He smiled, barely remembering to kick off his shoes messily before walking towards where he thought she'd be… the garden. He didn't know how he knew it, but he could almost sense her there.

Sure enough, when he tiptoed barefoot out of the screen door, he saw a flame of red hair rocking slowly back and fourth.

Jace frowned at the way Clary looked, stopping from walking over to her. She was curled up on the porch swing, her head resting on the back of it, her eyes troubled and pensive. She had a wool blanket wrapped around her slim shoulders, and her shoulders were hunched in an almost protective way, her stockinged feet curled underneath her so she made a satisfying ball. Like magic, the chair was blowing forwards in the wind, then back again. Requiring no work from the girl inside of it.

Slowly, Jace made his way across the wooden planks painted grey towards her. She looked up just as he sat down. The swing swooshing backwards at the sudden weight change. He saw her eyes light up, bringing new life to her face. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Where have you been?" She attempted to say, but had to clear her throat to sound normal. Jace was confused, she was almost plastering a smile to her face now.

"Around," Jace muttered derisively, still staring at the girl in front of him. He now had to use his foot to push the swing back and forth, rubbing his callused toes on the wood as he did so. It creaked slightly, like his weight wasn't meant to be.

"What's wrong?" He asked almost immediately after, his eyes hard and demanding an answer. There was a brief flash of something in Clary's emerald eyes that didn't get un noticed by Jace. Before she uttered out a brief nothing that was low and fake sounding.

Jace raised one eyebrow, daring her to continue to lie to him, but her expression didn't change.

Why was she lying to him? Did she find someone else? Shut up stupid, of course not. She asked the god damned angel to save you, now you think she's moved on? Jace scolded himself on his suspicious thoughts, but he knew something was troubling her. He could see it in the way she sat silently, not looking at him but out at the greenery.

The garden was beautiful though it hadn't been preened yet and had been left to grow out by it's previous owner. A weeping willow was the basis around it. Standing regally in the center, while an almost lake like moat circled around it's roots. The tips of it's long string like leaves barely touched the water. Only when the wind blew strongly did it have the chance to brush it's tickling feathers hard enough to leave a barely audible trail on the silver water. Weeds grew out from around all places, covering benches and a huge New York lamp post like the one from whatever that fantasy novel is. Isabelle had had an obsession with peter, or whatever his name was when she was seven.

"We better go wash up for dinner or my mother will kill us," Clary said, faking cheerfulness. She winced at how unbelievable it sounded to her own ears, but didn't stay long enough to see his reaction. She pushed off the swing, holding her blanket around her and traipsing into the house. There was an odd hollow spot in her heart, seeing the way Jace looked after her. Like she was talking part of himself with her. She shivered as she closed the screen door behind her.

Jace still sat on the swing, feeling the ghost of her beside him, before he reached over and touched where her head had been sitting. He let out a soft sigh, that blew out on the wind, getting lost in its waves, before it fell short and he stood up abruptly. He followed her footsteps back inside, vowing to bring the topic up later. He had more important matters to discuss. Like how in the hells name he was going to survive family dinner.

* * *

Alec stepped broodingly down the halls of the institute, his head bowed in frustration. His mind buried in thought, he almost missed the mewing of Church, who had drawn himself up beside him.

"Oh, hello Church," He murmured, leaning down to trail a pale hand over the cats fur.

The cat did not stop meowing though, his cries almost urgent. Alec felt his eyebrows furrow as he looked down at the feline. His fur was bristled and his eyes held a certain hardness in them. Alec's eyes widened in confusion and worry as the cat butted his head against his leg before trotting off at an agile pace towards the library.

"I can't believe I'm following a cat," Alec muttered as he let Church lead him towards the grand room.

When Alec turned the next corner, he met his sister. Her face was ashen and her hair fell in uneven tendrils down her face. He barely had time to register the panic in her eyes before she let out a strangled sound and held up a thick sheet of parchment.

"Isabelle, what-" He began, not used to seeing his sister like this.

"Alec, read the damn paper," She said, her voice rising dangerously in pitch.

Alec's eyes flittered down to the paper, taking it from her hands so the shaking of her body would not affect his reading. He turned away from her, his eyes raking once over the auburn ink. It took barely a moment to sink in.

He whirled back around to Isabelle, she had raised a hand to point shakily at the library doors. Alec bolted inside, still clutching the note in his hands.

He stopped short at the doors, letting out a slow breath of disdain.

The place had been ransacked, books thrown hastily off shelves, chairs turned over and ripped apart. Pieces of wood from the fire burned dry near shredded draperies. And a single dagger, stabbed ruthlessly into the grand desk, right where the Angels heart would be.

Alec held up the sheet of paper, it matched the hole that had held it there. Isabelle had tore it from the dagger, meaning she was unable to get the small knife out.

"Alec," Izzy began, her voice startling Alec slightly.

He did not respond, only backed out of the room, staring at the thick paper.

"Alec," Isabelle began again, her voice almost desperate. Desperate for her big brother, for her only true brother left.

He had to be strong for her, for Isabelle who had taken Max's death the hardest. He felt a slow shudder go through his spine. For, once looking properly at the parchment. He saw that attached to it was a picture of the circle. And both of their parents had been crossed out in a deep red ink.

"Come on, Izzy," He muttered, grabbing her elbow and practically dragging her away from the library.

"Where are we going?" She replied, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"I have no idea," Alec told her truthfully, "Maybe to Taki's,"

* * *

This is definitely the weirdest family dinner Clary had ever had.

It would look almost normal to strangers eyes, a mother, dressed some what nicely in a white blouse that contrasted nicely with her scarlet hair. A father, his skin tanned and looking awkward in a slick navy shirt. A daughter, avoiding the eyes of her boyfriend, dressed in simple jeans and a black tank top. Then there was the boyfriend, his hair glowing in the light of the jeweled chandelier. His smirk hiding his worry.

"So, what did you two do while Luke and I were out at the furniture store getting a new table?" Jocelyn asked, her voice hardening slightly at the mention of the now dead coffee table.

Clary blushed and fidgeted in her seat, poking at her food and not bothering to answer.

Jace spoke, with an evil twinkle in his eyes, "Oh, the normal,"

It would have been considered a fine answer if not for the wink he gave Clary in obvious force for her parents to see. Luke raised both eyebrows, masking his slight suspicion towards the two. Jocelyn on the other hand seemed to be curious, not catching the tension between them.

"Okay, get any drawing down Clary?" She said, directing the conversation away from Jace. She tried to ignore the way he settled himself to look at Clary again, the same glint in his eyes.

"No," Clary said almost too hurriedly, her cheeks growing scarlet as she stuffed a bite of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

"That reminds me," Luke began, clearing his throat as he got ready to deal a blow, "We decided that until we are all settled in, there will be no demon hunting,"

Luke was not looking at Clary as he said this, his eyes were tense on the young man. Jocelyn and he had discussed what to do about this, knowing that Clary would want to start her training soon. When Jocelyn had reminded Luke about helping Isabelle with the trouble maker, they had made this deal. Yet, they did not need to use their dining table too.

"Alright," Clary said through a mouthful of potatoes. Also letting her eyes go to Jace to see his reaction.

"I'm fine with that, we'll just have to find _other _ways to amuse ourselves," He responded.

Luke cleared his throat uncomfortably at the innuendo as Jocelyn too looked down at the steak she had cooked. Though, it was hard to miss the flush of anger in Clary's cheek though she tried to hide it.

"Stop it Jace," She muttered finally, her voice quiet as she tried to hold in her embarrassment.

"That's not what you said this afternoon," Jace said in a sing song voice, waving his fork around.

Luke felt his own fork getting ready to poke the boy in the eyes as he grew protective over his adopted daughter.

"Jace," Clary warned, before Jocelyn could do the same thing.

"Thats what you said," He told her making what could be considered a crude hand gesture if you had the right imagination.

"Jace," Clary repeated, her cheeks almost matching her hair now.

"Exactly what you were yelling earlier, just not in anger," He told her, though you could tell it was meant for the table.

Luke was about to take drastic measures before he felt it go out of his hands and into Clary's as suddenly the mashed potatoes on her fork went flying and narrowly missed Jace's head, landing in a heap on the wall.

Jace whipped his head around, suddenly crouched on the chair instead of sitting on it. Then his shocked face was replaced by a crooked grin, his golden eyes wicked. Not quite as quickly, but driven by anger, Clary was standing on her chair too, holding the marble pot of mashed potatoes in her hands.

"You're a dick," She spat, her embarrassing having given to anger.

"And you need to work on your aim," Jace replied, chuckling darkly and easily dodging another shot.

He turned back around to talk again when he staggered backwards at the impact of a particularly large ball. Clary's crystal laugh cut through his ears, genuine fun in her voice.

"That's it," He said, though his voice was playful.

The adults watched astounded as Clary and Jace continued to throw the barely eaten dinner at each other, both laughing loudly when they got a hit. After Jace had easily cleared the new coffee table in a jump, Clary had maneuvered the fight outside.

"I guess dinners over," Jocelyn sighed, shaking her head in disappointment as her food was used as a weapon instead of nutrition.

"Who's winning?" Luke asked, a grin spreading across his face as he watched the young lovers battle it out.

Jocelyn rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the chair and beginning to gather plates.

"I doubt we did Isabelle much good, that boy will do whatever he wants to do," She told him, walking past the french doors and into the kitchen, trying to ignore the blobs of mashed potatoes on the walls.

"Maybe Isabelle is wrong," Luke muttered, as he saw Jace's grin spread across his face, happier then he had ever seen it.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Clary heard Jace call. She shifted her weight on the tree, feeling the scratch of branches on her cheeks.

She hoped he could not hear the erratical pumping of her heart, the ragged breathing. She clutched the auburn pot to her, having long lost the fork in the fight. Suddenly she heard a rustling of leaves behind her and almost screamed.

"Gotcha," Jace whispered, grabbing her around the waste and watching as the pot smashed on the grass.

"What is with you and breaking my moms things?" Clary laughed, struggling to keep her balance on the slim branch. Of course Jace seemed perfectly fine.

"Are you accusing me of breaking the pot you _obviously_ dropped?" He faked surprise and hurt, "I'll just have to sacrifice you now,"

"What- Jace!" Clary screamed as she was suddenly falling all too quickly to the ground.

Then she wasn't anymore, she was wrapped in the familiar rounds of his arms. Clary felt her memories of the picture slowly wrap back around her, as she stood ankle deep in the forest green grass. Her hair was sticking to the sides of her face in a thick layer of sweat and her eyes suddenly grew brooding.

Jace seemed to sense the change, and his arms loosened around her.

"So you're still not going to tell me," Jace breathed, having used the food fight as a way to get her to tell him. He would not admit it, but amidst the running and tossing of food, he had almost forgotten about the secret she was keeping from him.

"I won't tell you," Clary finally breathed, after moments of him just staring accusingly at her. Jace flushed in a sudden fury, though his anger was not directed at Clary, more at her stubborn-ness.

"I'll just have to force it out of you," He said suddenly, his face shooting up and his eyes twinkling like a little boy on christmas... who had snuck coal into his siblings stockings.

One moment they were standing side by side, staring at each other. The next, Jace was flying through the air, tackling Clary and landing them both on the wet grass, him over top of her though he supported all of his weight on his hands. Clary, startled but not hurt, looked up at him admonishingly.

"That was uncalled for," She gasped, her breathing hitching from the sudden flight.

"You deserve it," Jace replied, his mouth dangerously close to hers. They were under the shade of the tree they had been in, though Clary still felt too open in their fenced in backyard.

He slowly relaxed himself beside her, aware that she had been holding her breath in case he had intended to lower himself onto her lips. She let out a breath, trying to hide her disappointment. He too, was finding it hard to resist her full lips.

He lowered himself until he lay adjacent to her, careful not to rest hi head on one of her stray curls. He leaned out a hand, not being able to bear the space between them, and pulled her closer. She slid easily, grass staining her clothes until her head rested lightly on his chest and his arm pillowed her neck.

"I'm sorry," She breathed, feeling no pull to tell him at all. She had made her decision, and she could not make him worry again, not after his worrying had just been stopped.

"You should be," He pouted, brushing a hand over her cheek gently even though his words were harsh.

Clary breathed deeply, listening to the sound of her Jace's heart as it thumped against his ribs. She reveled in the sound, feeling the fact that it she could die if it ever stopped beating. She pushed away the memories of that night at the lake, pushed it far behind her. Yet, some where inside of Clary, she knew that it was not so far behind her. That it was coming back. Every rose has it's thorn...

"Why won't you tell me? Clary, I can't stand this, I can't stand knowing something is hurting you and not knowing what it is," Jace begged, his voice desperate.

Clary's breath hitched, her body unmoving against his. She had a brief moment of regret, just a second where she thought about spilling her secret. Where she thought that life would be so much easier if he knew, if he could hold her and tell her it would be okay. But that would be selfish, she could not let Jace spend his nights sleepless just because she wanted some one to protect her. She would not do that to him.

"You'll just have to," She told him firmly, though she turned around to loop her arms around his neck and pull him tighter to her, he did the same, his arm brushing her waist.

He rested his head in her hair, breathing in the scent and he too remembered the lonely days when he thought he was her sister. Maybe he hadn't just ran away from the Institute as an act of rebellion. Actually, he knew it wasn't just an act of rebellion. He had to do it, so he had. Not just to show them that he was the boss of himself, but so he could be with Clary.

"You infuriate me," He muttered into her hair, his tone soft.

"I know," She whispered back, her voice deathly serious.

From inside the kitchen window, Jocelyn looked out with a soft smile on her face. She touched Luke's arm softly as he loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, just to show him how much he meant to her.

Luke looked up, his eyes surprised. When he saw the look of love she gave him, he smiled at her and swept her up into his sudsy arms, kissing her forehead gently.

"I love you Jocelyn Fairchild," He murmured into her hair, not aware that outside, Jace was **thinking** the same thing.

* * *

Alec slipped out of his room, his sneakered feet padding against the cool ground noiselessly. He combed a hand through his already messy hair, ruffling it to look disheveled in a different way. He wore simple jeans and a dark sweater, his blue eyes almost glowing against his pale skin in the dark.

A sigh escaped his thorny lips, his hands swinging broodingly against his sides. Alec shivered in the cool drafted that drifted through forgotten open windows. He could not help but wonder if his parents had opened it before they had been attacked.

"Stop thinking like that Alec," he admonished himself carefully.

He jogged quickly to the end of the hall where the elevators sat, leaning out to press the button. He was a man on a mission, more so then his sister had ever been.

Speaking of his sister, Isabelle was in her room, having passed out from excessive pacing just a few hours ago. She had sat painfully in a booth at Taki's barely picking at her food while Alec had tried to think of a plan. All he could do was think of what Jace would do.

When he had voiced his troubles out loud, Isabelle had stated sarcastically that he should just go find Jace. So that was what he was doing now. He did not care that his sister hadn't meant it. Even if Jace had run away, he deserved to know what was going on.

Alec huffed as the elevator clatter down and landed with a thump on the church floor, the doors clanging open too loudly. The church was always eery at night, the pews lined up perfectly straight, no mistakes, not a millimeter off.

Alec sprinted through the isles, like he had when he was a little kid. When he had ran just for the sake of running. He just ran through the aisle, his hair threading breezily behind him, the wind cutting at his cheeks. He skidded to a stop in front of the huge doors.

He threw his hands out, throwing open the doors-

And staring right into the tawny eyes of who he had set out to find.

Jace stood their, his eyes holding a similar amount of worry and anxiety as his. Jace looked disheveled and like he had been pacing too. There were bags under his eyes and his demeanor was jumpy.

He turned to Alec in surprise, lowering his hand as though he had been just about to knock.

"I have a problem," He breathed, and Alec could hear the anxiety in his voice.

"The feeling's mutual," Alec sighed, leaning his head against the door frame.

Both boys smiled grimly and ran a hand through their hair, knowing that everything had just only begun again.

* * *

_Alright, was that alright? Thank you again guys, for all the reviews. But they are still greatly appreciated, especially those reviews that are worth reading, not that any of yours aren't. 8D  
_

_Reviews are better then Jace with a mashed potatoe bowl... SHIRTLESS! :D_

Sincerely, Caitlyn.

P.S It's Lily's Chapter next so if you have any suggestions, feel free to tell us!


	5. Before The Worst

_HI THERE! It's Lily! I am so sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I'd give you my excuse but, let's face it, I don't have one. I'm just lazy and I have my best friend Caity reminded me of that every day. "Write COT." "I will soon!" "NOW!" Okay, so, that never really happened but, generally, I felt I wasn't up to snuff was a friend so - voila! Chapitre numero cinq! (For those who don't know, that means chapter five in french.) ;)_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, as much as I'd love it. Once again, I am not Cassandra Clare. (Neither of us are.)_

* * *

It was silent. Not the type of silence in the night where you listen, think and reflect. No, it was the type of silence where there was just ... nothing. No noise, no words, not even the sound of somebody elses breathing.

The two boys stared at each other, eyes locked. Best friends trying to decipher what was going on in the other's mind. Jace started to lightly switch his weight from foot to foot as he realized how intense Alec's gaze was. Finally, he spoke.

"So, do you want to go first or shall I?" His voice held no malice, just exhaustion and the haughtiness it always had when he spoke.

"You go first. After all, you came all this way just to tell me. By the way, _what _were you thinking, just showing up here without a word? How - oh nevermind, just talk." Alec was surprised by how annoyed he was with the golden-haired boy in front of him. _It's just what's going on, _he told himself, _it's not just Jace. _

Jace took a breath and went to sit on one of the church seats. "It's Clary." Alec rolled his eyes internally. When _wasn't _it about Clary? He should have guessed; he should have known. Still, he let Jace go on.

"There's something she's not telling me. I think it's something big. What if she's sick or hurt or being stalked? There's something wrong and I need you to help me figure out what it is." Jace lifted his eyes to his friend, not wanting to ask for help. It was upsetting him more each second and knowing that he wouldn't be able to do it alone - to be her hero or her helper - was not making anything any better.

"Jace, if she was sick, she could get one of those healers." Alec thought for a moment. "A doctor. The same goes for if she was hurt." Jace crossed her arms and started tapping his foot against the floor, letting the echoes sink under his skin. "And do you really think she's getting stalked? I mean, come on."

"I was just giving some ideas." Jace did not seem to be in the mood to joke. "So are you in or not?"

Alec almost wanted to say no. After all, he had bigger things on his mind. Bigger things being worse scenarios and more problems. He lifted his chin in a look he hoped was tough, but showed he would assist. Jace returned the gesture.

"You're turn," he said, the tapping of his foot slowing.

"It's sort of a long-short story." Alec knew his words made no sense but they described perfectly the situation.

Jace raised an eyebrow and smirked. "A long-short story? If it involves Magnus and something about a bedroom, I don't want to know."

Alec glared as the words tumbled out of him. "Angel's sake, Jace! It's not Magnus! It has nothing to do with Magnus - as a matter of fact. It's something much more dangerous than that and it seems like you don't give a rat's ass about anything outside your little world! Do you even care about how we feel anymore? What about my mother, huh? When was the last time you spoke to her when it wasn't to fight?"

Jace stood, shocked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it. "Well, I - where is she? I'll do it now."

Alec's look went into the other man's very core. "She's gone, Jace. Both my parents are. And they're not coming back."

* * *

Sometimes there are things you can never remember - other things you can never get off your mind. That was exactly how Clary felt as she lay in her bed, brushing the one spot in her hair over and over and over again. It had been late, the night already black as a demon's heart, when she had decided to climb upstairs to her bedroom. Still, she could not sleep. She had planned to tell her family about the man from the University at dinner but the affair had gotten a little out-of-hand and her planned speech went over her head. Now she was regretting it. And Jace still wasn't home.

For a few minutes, Clary seriously considered telling him. He would be able to protect her, give some theories, put her mind to rest. He would also be over-protective, make theories that would scare the living daylights out of both of them, and not only put her mind to rest but put it into "shut-down" mode. No, it would be better to keep her mouth shut. She was sure he would be able to get over it - he was strong that way.

She rolled onto her back, resting her arm lightly across her stomach with the other tucked comfortably behind her head. Clary desperately did not want to let her mind wander too far. She had a tendecy to do that at night when she was alone. It was like she needed constant distractions or she would fall into herself and never come out.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on one thing only. Strangely, she thought about roses. Rows and rows of roses. Beautiful, blood read flowers with the delicate, green stems. The small, almost invisible thorns that stuck out at the ready. Then, she was dreaming.

_Roses were lining up, leaves waving in the wind like the arms of a marching soldier. The color on the flowers, though, were flowing away like running water. The red liquid pooled on the ground like blood. It was a vicious sight. Each horribly beautiful plant had a knife stuck through its petals. Yet, they still marched onwards. Not only were they slowly getting closer, the liquid color was bursting up like a tidal wave; ready to attack, fight, kill. _

Clary woke up, drenched. Immediately, she checked her body to make sure she was not covered in blood. Nope, it was just sweat. She shook her head, running a hand through the scarlet hair that stuck to her scalp. Turning over, she almost screamed when she saw that she wasn't alone; there was a body next to her, staring at her.

"You're awake." His face did not register any emotion. He just continued his unblinking gaze.

"And you're here?" She tried to keep her visage as indifferent as his was. She could not do it as the surprise was too much to surpress.

"Obviously." He smiled, but it wasn't genuine. It was just a formal lift of the corner of his lips. Now it seemed like she wasn't the only one hiding something.

Clary propped herself up on her elbow, her still damp hair falling into her sleep-deprived eyes. "Where were you last night?"

He didn't avoid her eyes as he answered. "I saw Alec."

More surprised registered along with her evident curiosity. It was obvious he was waiting for her to say something as his eyes roamed over her body. He felt a pull towards her; the same gravitational tug he always felt when she was near him. It told him to put her in his arms, to cradel her and make her safe. Yet, he remained where he was.

"Why?" It wasn't what Clary had meant to ask but it was out before she could stop it. She searched to see if there was anything to suggest that he was offended by her question. After all, he had every right to go see whoever he wanted whenever he wanted. There was none, though.

"Because I thought it was time we should really talk." Whether it was a lie or not, it still put a small smile on the girl's full lips. She moved over and wrapped her arms around his torso, breathing in the clean smell of his being.

"Good. It's about time." Jace could feel her lips moving along his collarbone. The feeling made him tingle. He closed his eyes and and held her, finally glad for the proximity.

"Speaking of about time ... when was the last time you ... you know." Jace said the words slowly, the feeling of realization a heavy brick at the bottom of his stomach. He tried his best to sound self-assured. He tried to be the confident man that his lover knew him as. Nowadays, though, he was questioning everything. Including this.

Clary pulled away to look him in the eyes. "When was the last time I - oh. My god. You think I'm _pregnant_?" Her face flushed to same shade as her hair. She got up from her bed and started striding across the room, doing everything so he would not see the look of embarrassment on her face.

Jace did not move. Nor did he offer any words. Finally, when the heat of her cheeks had cooled, she turned to face him. "What in the world gave you that idea?" Her voice was higher-pitched than usual, he noted, but her eyes still blazed at him with her emerald intensity. "How could you _even think_ that? Not only am I just almost seventeen but we've never -" she stopped. The blush had returned.

"It was the only thing I could come up with, considering the way you've been acting lately." His words hurt her, even though he said them in the quietest way. She just couldn't find it in her to be angry at him. Clary knew that Jace would have theories - that was one of the reasons she had decided not to tell him about what was really going on.

Clary crossed her arms and knew that she would not go any further with this. How else to better avoid uncomfortable discussion about pregnancy with your Angel of a boyfriend than by changing a topic? "Back on track, what did Alec have to say?"

Jace snorted, knowing that she was actually running _off _track. He rolled over so he was laying on his back and shrugged. "Not much. We just had a little chat about kittens and clouds and tea parties. The usual." His heart lightened up when he heard the tinkling sound of Clary's laugh.

"No. Really."

Jace looked at her from under his dark eyelashes. "Do you really want to know?"

Clary put her hands on her hips and stood on her tiptoes, trying to make herself look bigger. "Of course I want to know. And if you don't tell me, I'm sure I can torture it out of you."

_If only that would work on her_... Jace thought, before reaching into the pocket of his dark jeans he had been wearing the day before. He pulled out a small piece of paper that had a big rip in the middle of it, as if it had been pinned to something. Alec had given it to him just as he was living the Institute with the warning 'you better not lose that'.

Jace passed it over with as little as a grunt to the waiting hands of the redhead. Carefully, she unfolded it, holding her breath the whole time.

'_When you reflect on times like these, you really wish you had been more patient. More thoughtful, more considerate. Those times are behind you now. You can wish as much as you like but wishing never changes anything. I would know how real that is. You may have noticed by now that your parents are missing. If not, take another look around you. I can assure you, they are not there. You won't find them or myself. If you wish for them to not be harmed, like I said, wishing does not make the slightest difference. Watch your back.'_

Clary's eyes slowly lifted from the wrinkled page, her lips open in shock. Nothing was said because there was nothing to say. Jace just nodded, reaching his arm out for the paper. She placed it in his waiting palm and watched him curl his fingers around it.

"So they've just disappeared?" Clary asked, her glowing eyes wide. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, noticing how her boyfriend got distracted by the small movement.

"Well, yes and no. Yes being for yeah, they've disappeared meaning they are gone, no longer present, the such. No being for no, they didn't just 'disappear'. They were taken."

* * *

Magnus was pacing around his living room, a single thin finger tapping against his chin with each step he took. There had to be something he could do for his lover and the rest of them. He raked his mind for a spells, enchantments, anything that could be of use but came up empty. He had already tried using the tracking spell on the note and it had given him nothing but empty static. The whole situation was putting a lot of stress on him and he did not react well to stress. He really wanted to throw a party just to get his mind off of things but he knew that was not the way to handle it.

He swiftly swayed over to a desk in the corner of his room and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He tucked the pen behind his ear as he thought of what to write. His forehead wrinkled and his lips puckered when he remembered he didn't need such mundane things such as a writing utensils to communicate to another.

He closed his eyes and waved his fingers over the piece of paper as words magically etched themselves upon the page. Magnus then opened his eyes to see the note burst into flames before him, slowly getting eaten away by the heat until nothing was left. Knowing that was all he could do, he went downstairs.

Strangely, or at least strangely for the warlock, he felt something in the pit of his body. That letter had nothing to do with the problem Alec was facing - it was just asking him to come over because he missed him. Like the flames on the page, guilt licked at his brain, telling him he was selfish, a demon, something to stay out of the way.

Magnus did not have time to agree with the little nagging voice because a bright light appeared; a fire floating in the air. The magic creature smiled at how fast Alec had taken to reply. His cat-like eyes roamed over the note, figuring out that the Shadowhunter was coming but could not stay for long. Apparently Isabelle did not want to be home alone - Magnus smirked when he read this, remembering the head-strong girl he had seen just days ago - but she had finally asleep so he had a few moments to come over.

Having nothing better to do, Magnus went downstairs and sat on a leather chair, crossing one thin ankle over the other. The early morning wind was yelling through the windows like a prisoner heading towards the noose. It was all Magnus could do to not cover his ears and wince. After a moment, the wind had stopped and Magnus grinned to himself as no one else was around to appreciate it with him. Outsiders would have no idea what had just happened to the dismal early-fall weather as it had just brightened up suddenly, confusing weathermen everywhere. Magnus knew because he had done it. It was times like these when he really enjoyed having magic.

_Might as well get changed_, he thought to himself, hurriedly heading back to his room. On his way there, he stared at himself in the mirrors on his wall. His hair was drooping, his shirt was wrinkled, he was completely unpresentable. Yes, he definitely had to prim up a bit before the boy came over.

Khakis and a tee-shirt were donned, along with newly spiked hair. Now, he could fully smile at himself in his reflection and not look like the hideous creature he felt like inside. Whenever he and Alec were together, he would always get told the same things: he wasn't a demon, nor was he horrible. He was wonderful and great and all the other sweet nothings that a lover had ever whispered.

A knock on the door reverbated throughout the room. Magnus tried to act like his insides weren't attempting to jump out of his body by smoothly walking over, taking his time, but it wasn't working. The grin worked its way onto his face and the hop back in his step.

"Yes?" He trilled, knowing who it was. "How may I be of assistance?"

A laugh came from the other side - a laugh he knew well. Not wanting to hurt him with purple smoke of a way as entrance, he simply opened the door to the blue-eyed man on the other side.

"Welcome." His eyes were twinkling with all kinds of mischief but he knew he had to wait. His thoughts had to stay hidden inside the compartments of his cerebellum until furthur notice, he could tell. For now, though, he swept open his arms to pull the Shadowhunter inside, planting a gentle peck to his cheek.

Alec pulled away before Magnus had wanted to even loosen his hold. This was not uncommon but it still made him ache terribly inside every time it happened.

"I don't have long," Alec strided away, swiping at small marcels of invisible dirt on his way to wherever he was going. "I only came now because Isabelle finally passed out from exhaustion but she could wake up anytime. She'll freak if I'm not there but I think I'm okay for about an hour, probably less."

"I know." Of course he knew. He had already explained all of that in the firenote. An awkward silence hung in the air as neither knew what to say. Magnus could not take it anymore and took it upon himself to fix whatever creases were in their relationship. "Have you eaten? You look hungry. I'll whip something up." He'd have to iron out the bumps very slowly, he knew but at least he was making conversation.

"No, I'm fine." Alec shook his head in refusal but the warlock had already zapped up steaming plates of pasta. The food was thrust into his hand and he quickly sat down on the closest chair. Even though he said he was okay, his stomach was rumbling like an angry bear.

Magnus sat down on the seat next to him and placed a light hand on his knee. "What are you thinking about?"

Alec closed his eyes and finished chewing silently before answering. His voice was a humiliated whisper when he spoke. "My parents. They're gone, Mag, and I don't know where they are. I don't even know where to look. I don't know who wrote the note or what they want or what they're doing or _anything. _I don't know _anything._"

A single tear slipped down his cheek from behind his closed eyelid. His knee was given a single squeeze but it was enough to reach his heart.

* * *

It was about mid-afternoon when Jace and Clary made their way downstairs. The house had been strangely empty and silent the whole day but they had been too wrapped up in their own little world to give much thought to it.

"Mom? Luke?" She called as she pranced into the kitchen. There was no one there. Besides her and Jace, there was nobody in the rest of the house.

"Maybe they just went out," he suggested, flipping a pillow in the living room, taking an apple from the kitchen, and wandering through the rest of the rooms. In the office, Clary was standing paralized - a side from the constant tremble that was shaking her body.

"What's wrong?" He strided up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her small being, resting his chin gently on the top of her curls. Her trembling grew more pronounced until Jace had to hold her up by her elbows. The paper she had been reading fluttered to the ground with the grace of a butterfly.

Hesitantly, he reached down and picked it up. His eyes scanned the page warily, not sure what to find. When he was finished reading, he looked down at Clary who was now sitting on the ground, clutching her knees to her chest.

"It's an exact replica of the note Alec and Isabelle got." He stated, helping her to her feet. All she could do was nod her head.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, inhaling. "At least now we have the house to ourselves," he murmured into her hair. He felt small hands on his chest, moving his away. Shocked, he looked down at the ashen face of the beautiful ginger. Her lips were moving but no sound was coming out.

"How," she finally managed, "can you say that?"

Jace shrugged, curling his lip upwards. His arms fell from her body to his sides in a casual manner. "Easily, I guess."

Just then, he did not just _hear _her sharp intake of breath, but he could feel it. To him, it was the sound of a gun behind shot miles away. It was difficult to say how something so simple could affect him so much. It was as if he, himself, was the person so far away being shot.

"How can you - after all they've done for you! I can't believe you. Doesn't it matter to you that my mother and Luke are gone? They could be getting tortured right now and all you're doing is letting your hormones run your brain!" Her eyes were steely. Jace could tell this was going to be a tender topic and tried to pass it over with an absent wave of his hand.

"Clary, this is how I deal with things. Angel help me, I was just trying to put a smile on your face."

She had to resist from melting on the spot. Whenever he looked at her like he was doing at that very moment, she just wanted to bury herself in his strong grip forever. The picture of Jonathon that was taken seemed like a distant memory - Clary was just glad that this took her love's attention away from how she'd been acting lately.

"You deal with things your way, I'll deal with them my way. I'm going to the Institute." With that, she turned smartly on her heel and began to walk away, leaving him staring after her all the while.

When she got outside, she hailed a cab that ended up taking her a block further than she needed to be. As angry as she was at Jace and whoever took her parents, she knew making a scene wouldn't help at all so, as much as she could, she let it slip through her fingers like sand. After all, he was just a mundane cabbie and, to him, the place she wanted to go to looked like an abandoned church. _What would a girl like her be doing in a place like that? _Oh, if only he knew...

When she finally got to the big doors, she spoke. Her words were broken and raspy from all the walking she had just done. "I, Clarissa Morgenstern, ask -" The doors swung open with a creaking sigh. She smiled at how the entrance got easier each time. It was almost as if the old place missed her and, whenever she left, just waited around with open, embracing arms.

Of course, as open and embracing the building might have been, it definitely was not warm. It also was not small. She shivered as she searched room after room for the people she knew she needed.

"Why, hello, Nutmeg. Fancy seeing you here." Clary span around to be met with a puff of turquoise smoke in her face. After coughing violently for a few minutes, she could finally see well enough to look into the slit-eyed person before her.

"You're not supposed to breath in, silly mortal girl." He smiled a crooked smile, his teeth sharper than she'd ever seen them before.

"I need to breath somehow," she muttered under her breath before smiling up at him. Despite everything, she liked Magnus. "What are you doing here?"

He gave a small snort as if her question was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard all day. "Alec came over but couldn't stay so I came back here with him."

Clary glanced behind her shoulders, as if expecting to see the boy by his side. "Speaking of Alec, where is he?"

Magnus' eyes flitted to the side momentarily before snapping back in place. "He's in the weapons room with Isabelle. I gather by now that you know what's going on."

She nodded while already moving towards the door he had been looking at. "Thanks Magnus!" She called, without looking back. There was a small sound of disappointment before he was out of her hearing range and out of her mind.

She threw open the door to the weapon's room and marched inside, not surprised to see the brother and sister huddled together, talking in hushed voices.

Clary cleared her throat. Isabelle squeaked and jumped. Alec slowly moved his head so he was glaring at Clary from the corner of his eyes. After a minute of getting used to the new presence, they bent their heads together once more. When the flaming redhead got closer, she could see the sleepless eyes of Alec and the tear-streaked cheeks of Isabelle.

She coughed, dislodging her nervousness. "I don't know if Jace told you but I've been hiding something. And I think it has something to do with ... everything."

* * *

_DUN DUN DUUUUNNN! Well, that's it for now, folks._

_Reviews are better than waking up next to Jace._

_Well, not really._

_Lily._


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